You're the Better Part of Me
by CharlotteBlackwood
Summary: Conglomeration between my multi-gen and Broken, prologues in Marauder yrs, main body in book years, will be epilogues. FW/OC GW/OC HP/GW HG/RW SB/OC RL/OC, bit of LE/JP, TL/VW... Partly AU, partly canon... M for few smut scenes and mentions of adult cont.
1. Prologue 1: Lily

**A/N: The idea for this story came to me the other day. It's a hybridized version of my multi-gen fic series (as yet far from finished) and my as yet unfinished story, **_**Broken**_**. Also, there's some characters names and elements I'd like to point out, paying homage to other authors. In this story, Amanda Potter is based on a character named Alex from some stories by **_**Alexia Gemini Potter**_**. She's a great author and a lovely person, and I highly recommend her work! Audrey, as I neglected to mention in **_**Broken**_**, is named for a character in **_**The Dark Lord's Only Hope**_**, by **_**The Musical Fool**_**, but is not based on this character in any way. A character named Laura will appear much later, named for a character in **_**Problematic**_**, by **_**xyellowconverse**_**, my lovely friend and co-author. Cheers!**

**-J**

Lily Evans was sitting in the Gryffindor common room, looking around, attempting to study for her N.E.W.T.s, which began the following week. Of the Gryffindor seventh years, most were present in her little group by the fireplace. Lily's boyfriend, James Potter, was playing with his younger sister Audrey's hair as she read her Charms essay for errors. Lily's best friend, Olivia, was sitting on the lap of James's best friend, Sirius, who had been her boyfriend for about two and a half years, and they were snuggling rather than studying, convinced they knew it all. Sirius's twin sister, Claire, was curled up against her boyfriend (Olivia's ex-boyfriend), Remus, who was revising madly, but still caressing Claire's knee as he worked, letting her know that he wasn't completely ignoring the girl. There was a fourth boy, Peter, who was reading Remus's notes frantically, attempting to remember everything he had forgotten while messing around with the boys when he ought to have been studying. It looked like a typical week-day evening, for this year.

There had been a lot of surprises, Lily thought to herself, over their time at Hogwarts. Lily, Claire, and Olivia, three very different girls, had somehow become the best of friends in seven years, with Audrey along for the ride at times. The other three girls were pureblooded witches, each from long, illustrious lines. Lily was a Muggleborn, the first witch in her family. At first, Olivia and Claire had bonded incredibly close together, and made friends with the boys in their year through Claire's brother, leaving Lily in the dark, sometimes alone in the dormitory while they went out to have fun, sometimes to make closer friends with Mary and Margery, the other girls in their year, but after Olivia said some hurtful and rather unintended things to Lily, the girl apologized and the three of them became very close.

Friendship with the boys had taken much longer. Remus and Lily had become friends in their fifth year, when they became the Gryffindor Prefects, but Lily didn't think much of his friends. James especially, who harassed her and asked her out nearly once a week from their second year on, had become fast one of her least favorite people at Hogwarts, followed closely by Sirius Black, Claire's flamboyant, rambunctious, womanizing twin brother. Lily had become more forgiving of Sirius after their fifth year, when the twins ran away from home and moved in with the Potters, because he threw away his womanizing days, settled down with Olivia, who he was clearly in love with, and went out of his way to look after his sister, who he obviously adored.

In fact, while Lily knew little of the details of the reasons the pair ran away from home (she and Claire weren't _quite_ that close), she knew that it had something to do with how Claire had been treated, not Sirius. Sirius had begun going everywhere with her, attacking boys who bothered her, and even letting her sleep in his bed, because she had developed an extreme fear of the dark. Once, Lily had accidentally overheard Sirius begging his twin to get counseling, see Madam Pomfrey, get help, but Claire adamantly refused.

"They'll hurt you if I tell," Claire had whispered, tears obvious in her voice. "Please don't make me do that."

As far as Lily knew, Claire hadn't ever talked to anyone but Sirius, Olivia, Audrey, and Remus about whatever had happened to her that Christmas break, but Claire was a tough girl, so Lily knew it couldn't be anything trivial. It had to be awful.

Remus and Claire hadn't been together at the time, of course. It had taken them until the beginning of sixth year for them to start growing close, and then it all sort of happened at once. Nobody but the two of them knew what had made them suddenly inseparable, but Lily got the feeling Sirius knew exactly what had gone on. Everyone approved, certainly. Before she had started dating Remus, anyone but Sirius even accidentally brushing against her caused her to panic. With Remus, little by little, she seemed to feel safer and less anxious.

Olivia had had a similar time of things, although her home life had always been excellent. Her father, in fact, was a highly placed Ministry official, and their home was so large that their entire friend group would visit her at once. The Potters could do this, as well, but Olivia was better at getting everyone there than James had ever been, mostly because for years Lily wanted nothing to do with James, if she could help it.

No, Olivia's problem had been a stalker, a Slytherin several years older than them who had stalked her, harassed her, but in a far less well-meaning way than James did with Lily. In fact, several times he tried to force himself on her, which had made him the number one person on the Marauders' hit list.

Well, number two, actually. Severus Snape, Lily's former best friend, had long been number one on that list, and for a very long time it was the biggest reason Lily despised James and Sirius. At the end of their fifth year, however, under duress of bullying, courtesy the Marauders, Claire, and Olivia, Severus had called Lily something absolutely unforgivable.

She might have forgiven him, if it hadn't been for the fact that his other friends were even crueler to innocent people, like Mary MacDonald, Margery Kunzman, and even Claire Black and Olivia Cromwell, who appeared to be the favorite targets of the less-desirable Slytherins.

For a brief time, Lily thought James had actually gotten over her, moved on, decided she wasn't ever giving in to his begging. He had a short relationship with Olivia's little sister, Anne-Claire. It ended badly, however, as James clearly wasn't half as interested in the younger Ravenclaw as she was in him, and Olivia had humiliated James in front of the whole school for his treatment of her sister. Lily was impressed by one thing about how he handled the situation, however: He didn't fight back. He knew he deserved it, had earned the treatment he was receiving, and he took it like a man.

It was the first time Lily looked at James and really saw him as anything other than the arrogant toerag she had long since labeled him.

Somehow, between his more mature behavior, his being named Head Boy (and she, Head Girl), and the way he had handled Mary's untimely and gruesome death (murdered by agents of the pureblood supremacist, Lord Voldemort, right on Hogwarts grounds and tied up for everyone to see), Lily's opinion of James shifted radically from how she had seen him in their first year, or really any year since.

When he finally asked her out again, this time like a mature adult and not in front of the entire school, she wasn't sure what possessed her to, but she said yes.

And what's more, she enjoyed herself tremendously.

The two who weren't happy in the equation, though, were Peter and Audrey.

Peter, Lily had deduced long ago, had a massive crush on Olivia. It wasn't surprising. Sometimes it felt like everyone had a crush on Olivia, and everyone but James and Peter in the boys' dormitory had dated her, including Kurt Neuendorf, who had actually been dumb enough to cheat on her, incurring the wrath of the Marauders. She was a pretty, talented girl, and she also happened to be the heir to the largest wizarding fortune, making her even richer than James and Sirius (or rather, Sirius before being disowned when they ran away from home), whose family fortunes were more than most people even dreamed about. When she inherited her father's fortune, Olivia would actually be the richest witch in the world. But Peter was a bumbling, less-than-average boy who was chubby, small, and far from half as attractive as Sirius or Remus (Remus was a better gauge, Lily decided, because even she could see that Sirius was unfairly attractive). He never had a prayer with a girl like Olivia.

Audrey, on the other hand, was deeply infatuated with Sirius, as was almost every girl in school. She, like James, wasn't the best looking, and her brother would inherit everything. She wasn't as talented as her brother, but she was reasonably bright. She was a decent athlete, but James was a Quidditch legend. And when you put her next to Claire, Olivia, and even Lily in a lineup, Audrey would be the one everyone forgot was there. She was incredibly sweet, had a heart of gold, but was agonizingly plain, especially in comparison with the company she surrounded herself with. Lily and Claire were the only ones who knew about Audrey's crush on Sirius (they decided it was best if Olivia didn't find out), and they felt horribly sorry for her. Not only were Sirius and Olivia incredibly in love, but who would notice sweet little Audrey next to Olivia, the almost-queen of the world?

Still, Audrey and Peter never complained, and seemed simply grateful to be included in such an illustrious group. After all, in spite of Lily's long-waged war against the Marauders, she had to admit that they were truly and absolutely the coolest people in Hogwarts. Between their pranks, their attitude, and their ability to throw an insanely wonderful party, everyone wanted them. The guys wanted to be one of them and the girls wanted to be one of their girlfriends (except for Peter, although he did manage to get a different girl most parties, simply because there was usually a girl desperate enough to be in on the action to go on a single date with Peter).

"I think that's all I'm going to get done tonight," Lily sighed abruptly, closing her book. "Honestly, despite the fact that I'm absolutely terrified and know I should be studying all the time, I feel so confident in the material that I can't bring myself to spend the time I feel I need on it."

"That's because you _do_ know the material, Lily," Claire snorted. "We all do. Well, except for maybe Peter."

Peter squeaked a little, but his blush at being mentioned spoke volumes: He knew he needed all the help he could get.

"Be nice, baby," Sirius chastised, much to Lily's surprise.

She wasn't shocked that he'd called his twin sister 'baby'. That was actually his affectionate nickname for her, and had been for as long as anyone could remember. What really shocked Lily was that Sirius, the hypocrite, was actually telling someone else to be nice. But then, Olivia had had a calming effect on Sirius, particularly in the last year, mellowing him and making him less rowdy and vicious than he had been. Also, Lily couldn't help but think sometimes that Sirius was a bit of a parental figure for Claire, not because she needed someone to keep any eye on her, any more than he did, but because she needed that sort of affection. It was well known that neither of them had had much parental affection, and from what Lily could deduce, Claire had gotten the worst of things.

Every new term, the Black twins would come back sullen, spirits just a little bit more broken, and Claire would have bruises and cuts all over her person, things she tried to hide, things she couldn't hide, and things she probably thought no one knew about, but Lily had seen Claire standing in front of the mirror once, nude, examining her body.

That had been in fourth year, and the only thing that had surprised Lily more than the severity of the cuts, bruises, and scaring on the girl's body was how thin Claire was looking. Olivia discovered after a while that Claire had stopped eating, and the pair of them informed Sirius and staged an intervention, rather more successfully than they had anticipated, but once Sirius knew, Claire wasn't able to bring herself to continue the dangerous behavior. Sirius had actually cried, begged her to stop hurting herself.

"You're so beautiful, baby," Sirius had whispered, rocking his twin sister in his arms. "You were always perfect, and you never had trouble seeing it before. I don't care what started this, but I want it to stop. You're scaring me, love. Don't do this to yourself."

Tears had rolled down his cheeks, dropping into his sister's raven-black hair, and Lily could hear Claire sobbing as well. It had taken several months of close and careful supervision, but Claire overcame her aversion to eating. Sometimes, she struggled, but she told Olivia or Remus or Sirius when she was feeling weak, when she had an urge to skip a meal.

They certainly weren't going into the world as the healthy, happy seventeen- and eighteen-year-olds they ought to have been. There was a war outside the walls. Many of them had already lost people who were close to them, Mary included. Sometimes, the war found its way inside the ways, manifesting itself not only in Mary's death, but in duels in the corridors, Claire's fear of the dark, Olivia's attempt to kill herself after finding Mary's body, Sirius finding places to cry alone, when he thought no one could hear him. The damage, the trauma… it was intense, it was extensive, and not a one of them knew the half of what they all were going through every day. Lily was observant, but even she couldn't say for sure why Sirius was crying in empty classrooms during his free period or why Claire and Olivia would sometimes cry themselves to sleep. Even Audrey had demons Lily could scarcely imagine, her father having been killed by Death Eaters that winter, when she and her brother had been staying at Sirius and Claire's new house.

Maybe it was better like that. Of course, everyone wanted their children to become healthy, well-functioning adults, live peacefully, fulfilling lives, and have happy, untarnished souls. But in a time of war such as they were facing, maybe it was better that they were going into the fight already battle-hardened and torn in two. Maybe it would make the things they had to do that much easier.

Professor Dumbledore had already approached them about his secret organization, the Order of the Phoenix. He wanted all of them, upon graduation, to join him in the fight against Lord Voldemort. They all said yes. They were to become soldiers, every one.

Typically, upon graduating, Lily would have expected to look for a job, find a flat, get closer to James by dating a bit longer, and go about her life as her parents had done. Instead, she was joining a secret organization to fight for her life and freedom, she'd accepted James's marriage proposal (to even her own surprise), and was going to move in with him at a little cottage in Godric's Hollow that his mother had bought for them, which was near the Potter Manor. Other than joining the Order, she had no idea what her friends had decided to do.

That night as they readied for bed, she asked them.

"Sirius wants me to move in with him," Olivia admitted. "But I don't think I'm going to."

"Why not?" Claire cried, horrified.

"Because," she muttered, squirming a little. "The Prophecy…"

There was a murmur of understanding.

There had been a prophecy hundreds of years ago that Olivia's child would be the most powerful witch to ever live. Her mother had been killed when she was a child by Dark Wizards trying to get their hands on Olivia. Even the Slytherin who had harassed her was attempting to claim her on orders of Voldemort. It was obvious why a Dark Wizard would want her on their side, would want her to be impregnated by one of his followers. Mary's death had actually been a message to Olivia that they were going to take away the things she loved one by one until she gave in. She didn't want to be too close to Sirius. She wanted to keep him safe.

"You're going to distance yourself from him," Lily said, knowing that was the point of not moving in with him. "You haven't even told him about the Prophecy, but you're just going to walk away?"

"I have to," Olivia sighed. "The less he knows, the safer he is."

"You'll break his heart," Claire pointed out sadly.

"Better broken-hearted than dead," Olivia hissed.

It was an interesting point, and Lily wondered, had she been in the same situation, would she have been strong enough to do what Olivia was doing, to push away the man she loved for his safety? James was Lily's rock, the one thing keeping her from falling to pieces in these chaotic times. Would she have been able to walk away to keep him alive?

"Remus and I haven't really talked about the future," Claire said with a shrug. "I mean, we're definitely jealous of you and James, Lily," she said with a sly smile, "but I don't think we're quite ready to make that step. And it's more complicated, given certain… stuff."

Yes, that was certainly true. Remus being a werewolf would complicate a lot of things. The deep prejudice within the magical community against werewolves was not something easily overcome, and certainly Claire wasn't emotionally strong enough yet to withstand the stigma of being so shunned from wizarding society. She was still dealing with being shunned from wizarding high society.

"You know what bothers me most?" Olivia whispered into the growing darkness. "People we've seen every day for the last seven years will be on the other side of this thing. I mean… we might actually have to _kill_ people to survive. Have you guys thought about that?"

Oh, yes, Lily had thought about that all right. Every day since Dumbledore had spoken to them, it had been on her mind. It was the main reason she wanted to move the wedding date up so much. It was kill or be killed, and both things terrified her.

"Is there a chance at all that Eva's going to at least stay out of it?" Claire whispered softly.

Eva was Olivia's cousin, who looked just like her, but with blue eyes, and she was a Slytherin. She was an interesting sort of person, who was clearly jealous of Olivia (Olivia topped her at every class, dated the boy she was infatuated with, and even had the supposed glory of the Prophecy that Eva wasn't even mentioned in), but at the same time hated seeing anything happen to her cousin. It was sort of like Lily and her sister Petunia. They had been on bad terms for years, but Lily liked to think that if either one was in danger, the other would do whatever they could to protect their blood.

Hopefully, it never went that far.

"No," Olivia sighed. "From what your cousin Andromeda told me, she's already a Death Eater. I don't know if Regulus or Yaxley got to her first, but she's already at the meetings. Should cause some confusion on the battlefield."

That thought horrified Lily most of all. What if, in the haste of battle, one of the Order accidently mistook Olivia for her cousin? What if Olivia died because of the resemblance?

"We could all die, couldn't we?" Lily whispered. "I mean, there's going to be quite a lot of deaths, isn't there?"

"Yes," Claire whispered. "We could all die."

The silence that fell on the three friends said everything that needed to be expressed, but couldn't possibly be said aloud.


	2. Prologue 2: Remus

Remus was sitting at the banquet for the seventh year students. It was a sort of graduation ceremony. In years prior when the school had been much larger (when students from all over western Europe had come to Hogwarts to be educated), they had held actual ceremonies for graduation, but now the graduating class was forty-three students large and nobody could justify a grand ceremony in such dark times.

Claire's fingers were laced through Remus's under the table. Parents had been invited, though not all came. Claire's and Sirius's were conspicuously not present, but Mrs. Potter had come on behalf on her son and the twins. Lily's friendly parents were present as well, and Peter's sweet, elderly mother. Remus's parents had made it, and were sitting next to Olivia's father, Peter Cromwell, who was one of the most highly recognizable public figures in the wizarding world.

"The world as we know it has certainly changed," Professor Dumbledore said in his clear, firm voice. "For those of you here for your children, I'm sure you all realize what a different sort of environment your newly qualified wizards are entering to the one you all found yourselves in years ago. And to the students, I'm sure you yourselves are painfully aware of the fact, as one of your number is not with us here tonight."

He nodded at the empty seat at the Gryffindor circular table that was left in Mary's memory. Margery Kunzman openly sobbed at this. Olivia flinched visibly and Remus saw Sirius gently rub her shoulder. Mary's death had been a heavy blow, but not as heavy as Olivia's horrible reaction to it, attempting to cut her own wrists with a cursed blade. She had been so distraught that Sirius and James had had to hold her down and wrench the blade from her grasp. Mary's chair might not have been the only empty seat in the Hall; there might have been three.

For after running away from home, well before Mary's tragic end, Claire had even tried to kill herself a couple of times, although the adults had never heard about those attempts. One scary incident, of course, had been when she starved herself, but Remus, Sirius, and Audrey, had all caught her on separate occasions attempting to either overdose on pain relieving potions or the one time Audrey had caught Claire attempting to provoke several of the more dangerous plants in Greenhouse Three. Remus had never been so scared as when he had held Claire, shaking, in his arms, trying to make a potion to purge her system with one had as he held her tightly to both comfort and restrain her. Once he had forced the cure down her throat, she cried herself to sleep in his arms.

Yes, there very easily could have been three empty seats at the Gryffindor table. Thank Merlin it was only one.

"This was one of the brightest, one of the most promising classes Hogwarts has seen in many years," Dumbledore went on. "The talent in any single House exceeds the talent of the last several years as whole classes. The professors have long talked about this class to me, either to praise their incredible talent or to bemoan their incredible appetite for trouble."

Parents and students chuckled, and Sirius and James high-fived over Claire's head. Dumbledore granted the Gryffindor table a hint of a smile.

"Yes, this year has shown their talents in many ways, be it school-wide pranks, forbidden duels, incredibly entertaining Quidditch matches, or the sheer number of points they earned for their remarkable coursework. Never before has so small a group received so many N.E.W.T.s in total. Some of you worked very hard for those N.E.W.T.s, certainly, but what shocks me is the number of students who received an impressive number of N.E.W.T.s without studying at all."

Once again, Sirius and James high-fived, but this time Olivia and Claire did as well. Several parents chuckled once more at this, and even Professor McGonagall's usually-disapproving stare seemed more like a look of pride as she regarded the Gryffindor table. Yes, Peter's N.E.W.T.s were nothing to brag about, and Kurt and Margery did reasonably well, but the rest of the table had topped the year, almost without even trying.

"It is time for each Professor to give out awards for excellence in their respective subjects, as well as a few extracurricular awards, and then we will hear from our Head Boy and Girl to end the banquet."

Professor Babbling stood and said, "For Ancient Runes, the prizes for achievement go to Claire Black and Remus Lupin of Gryffindor!"

Remus was surprised, but he and Claire, still holding hands, went up to collect their awards. He tried to ignore the vigorous applause and wolf-whistles of their friends, but Claire turned and winked at their friends, causing the commotion to escalate even further.

When they had sat back down and the crowd settled, Professor Vector stood and said, "For Arithmancy, the prizes for achievement go to Claire Black and Remus Lupin!"

Remus couldn't hide his shock this time, and Claire actually had to drag him by the hand to get him up front to accept their awards.

Professor Sinistra stood and said, "The prizes for Astronomy go to Eva Morecomb of Slytherin and Sirius Black of Gryffindor!"

Remus clapped heartily for his friend as Sirius swaggered to the front of the Hall with all of the confidence of a well-bred racehorse, which Remus supposed was sort of what Sirius was. After all, his family had even inbred in places to keep them with the purest of blood.

Professor Kettleburn stood and said, "The prizes for Care of Magical Creatures go to Lily Evans and Remus Lupin of Gryffindor!"

Remus was still shocked as Claire pushed him forward. Why had he won so many prizes? Sure Sirius and James… Surely they had done better than him? They were both so incredibly talented, so much better than he was at nearly everything…

"For Charms," Professor Flitwick squeaked, "the prizes for achievement go to Lily Evans and Sirius Black!"

"For Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Professor Pennyforth, "the prizes for achievement are awarded to Olivia Cromwell of Gryffindor and Severus Snape of Slytherin."

The clapping for this was only enthusiastic at the Slytherin table and amongst the parents. There was actually a dark pause amongst the rest of the school, as Severus Snape had actually horribly injured Olivia several times in the course of both sanctioned and unsanctioned duels, putting her in the hospital for several months all told, single-handedly. A careful observer would have noted the tremble in Olivia's hand as she accepted her award.

Professor Phythia stood and said, "The prizes for Divination go to Olivia Cromwell of Gryffindor and Davey Gudgeon of Hufflepuff. Although Davey never Saw in class, he made an excellent and good-natured subject and never failed to make our time in Divination interesting."

Sirius snorted loudly, even as he clapped for Olivia, who actually was a Seer. Davey Gudgeon was an accident-prone boy who they had nearly killed several times with pranks, though never on purpose. Half of the time when Olivia was "foretelling" and accident Davey would be having, it was because she was already aware of plans to blow up his cauldron or anger his Snargaluff later that day.

Professor Sprout stood and smiled down at them all.

"The prizes for Herbology," she said happily, "go to Lily Evans and Severus Snape!"

More tension at the Gryffindor Table, although they clapped stubbornly for Lily. After the falling out between the redheaded Gryffindor and the greasy Slytherin, there had always been an element of awkwardness to the fact that they excelled at many of the same subjects.

Professor Binns hovered forward slightly and said firmly, "The prizes for achievement in History of Magic go to Claire and Sirius Black of Gryffindor!"

That surprised absolutely no one. For one thing, their family had basically lectured them their whole lives about the long and illustrious traditions of Blacks in history. For another, much of History of Magic had a lot to do with the Black family and its offshoots, so they were more than prepared for the class and never studied a minute for it. In fact, Remus had caught them both sleeping, most days.

Professor Equnius stood and said, "For Muggle Studies, the prizes go to Lily Evans and Sirius Black of Gryffindor!"

The Gryffindor table laughed and cheered at this. It was a bit unfair. Lily, being a Muggle, really shouldn't have even taken Muggle Studies, but she couldn't resist and easy O. Sirius, of course, in an effort to rebel as much as possible against his parents, had devoted himself more to the study of Muggles and Muggle culture than really anything else in his whole time at school.

"For Potions," Professor Slughorn proclaimed proudly, "the prizes for achievement go to Lily Evans of Gryffindor and Severus Snape of Slytherin!"

That came as no surprise, although Remus suspected that choosing Lily had been less of an obvious thing than choosing Snape, seeing how Olivia and Claire were also phenomenal at Potions. Slughorn rarely missed an opportunity to tell them so, in fact."

"The prizes for achievement in Transfiguration," Professor McGonagall said proudly, "go to Olivia Cromwell and James Potter of Gryffindor!"

They all erupted with cheers for this, knowing that it couldn't have been anyone else. Olivia had single-handedly mastered the steps to Animagus transformation in their fifth year, and she and James managed to teach the others in less than a week (namely Peter and Sirius), and despite their absolute lack of effort, they easily scored points time and time again from a begrudging Professor McGonagall for their astonishingly good wandwork.

"The prizes for excellence in Quidditch," Madam Hooch announced, "have been awarded to Olivia Cromwell and James Potter of Gryffindor, two of the most natural athletes this school has ever seen."

At this, there was an incredible roar of support from all but the Slytherin table, as James and Olivia had led Gryffindor to pummeling Slytherin in the race for the Quidditch cup.

"The prize for citizenship," Professor McGonagall said, the Hall instantly going silent, "for Gryffindor House goes to Lily Evans."

Lily blushed profusely as she rushed forward to get her award.

"The prize for citizenship for Hufflepuff House," Professor Sprout said happily, "is for Kiki Sitzer."

"The prize for citizenship for Ravenclaw House," squeaked Professor Flitwick merrily, "goes to Jiki Sitzer."

Kiki's twin rushed forward, smiling and waving at the Gryffindors as they cheered loudly for her. She had been Sirius's first girlfriend, when they were young, and the whole group had been rather fond of her since. Rumor had it that her boyfriend, Xenophilius Lovegood, who had graduated a few years prior, had asked her to marry him. Remus didn't get a good look at her left hand as she accepted her prize, but the gasps and delighted squeals and whispers that rang out through the hall amongst the females was enough of a confirmation to him that the rumors were true.

"For Slytherin House," Slughorn said, puffing himself up importantly, "the prize for citizenship goes to Eva Morecomb."

Olivia frowned as her cousin went to collect his prize, and James leaned forward and hissed, "Because the whole year are going off to become Death Eaters and she was his least vicious choice!"

Lily gave him a disapproving look, but even her own worried expression that the disapproving glare melted into mirrored Remus's own thought that James, however biased and angry the statement had been, was probably right. And James being right only turned out well about forty percent of the time.

"A few more things before I turn the floor over to the Head Boy and Girl," Professor Dumbledore said kindly. "We've decided as a staff that it might be interesting to give out an award this year for the most number of detentions."

There was a murmur of excitement in the Hall, particularly at the Gryffindor table. Dumbledore held up his hand and the room quieted instantly.

"The most interesting thing, perhaps, about this decision is that we excepted one or two people to receive the prize. When we counted up the records, however, we found ourselves with a four-way tie on our hands. So, it is with great pleasure that I award Claire and Sirius Black, Olivia Cromwell, and James Potter the first and probably last annual prize for number of detentions served. They ended with one hundred and twelve detentions each. My recommendation," he added, eyes twinkling as the four proudly made their way forward, "is that you not put this particular prize on your CVs."

There was laughter and a surprisingly loud round of applause, to which the four charlatans hammed up the moment, bowing and blowing kisses to their adoring fans the whole way back to their seats, strutting like they owned the castle.

"Next, the prize for general academic achievement goes to," Dumbledore said, pausing for slight dramatic effect, "a tie between Lily Evans and James Potter of Gryffindor!"

There was a surprised roar of applause. The second prize of the year never had a tie, and certainly most had expected Lily to take the top prize. Still, Lily and James looked incredibly pleased as they went forward to accept their awards.

"And finally, the prize for topping the year goes to," he paused again, "Miss Olivia Cromwell of Gryffindor!"

Yes, that made a bit more sense, Remus thought to himself as he joined the ecstatic applause for their good friend, his first love. The awards took into account scores, he knew, as well as a teacher vote and a vote from the prefects. People had probably been very torn deciding which of the three to vote for. Remus himself had voted for Olivia, of course, but he had felt quite guilty for it. After all, they were all his close friends. But the way Olivia glowed with pride when she accepted her award made Remus feel as though he had absolutely made the right choice. Lily and James, they were happy. They had each other, they were getting married… Life was good for them. Olivia, like Claire, had had a much rougher go of things, and her worst days were probably still to come. But in that moment, she looked so happy a little bit of him forgot himself and fell in love with her all over again, despite the kiss she gave Sirius as she sat back down and despite the fact that Claire was holding his hand. Olivia might never be his again, Claire might be the love of his life, but he would always love Olivia in a special way that no one else could understand.

James and Lily each spoke very briefly, knowing that the class was not interested in long, drawn out speeches. They all wanted to get to dessert and goodbyes.

"Lily's making me go first," James said with a smirk, "because she wants to undo any damage I might inflict in the course of my speech." The crowd chuckled. "Firstly, I wanted to say a heartfelt thank-you to the parents here tonight. Some of you have come a long way, and I know that long-distance travel isn't the safest right now. We wanted to thank you for taking the time and risk to come and celebrate with us.

"But you know," he continued seriously, "it's not really much of a celebration. In another year, perhaps, I would be up here recounting several of the stories that led to a few of those hundred and twelve detentions, or saying that thirty four of those will always be worth it because they were acquired in the course of attempting to win the affections of Miss Lily Evans. But this year, we've got an empty seat at the table I sat at, just as the dormitory Lily and our friends have slept in has had an empty bed for months. Tonight, I want to talk a bit about what we're facing, because although none of us want to look it in the eye, it's there."

He cleared his throat and paused, looking out across the deathly silent Hall.

"Tonight, my mother is sitting in the audience, and my little sister is sleeping upstairs. Not long ago, my father was murdered by the Death Eaters."

A shiver went through the crowd, though a few of the Slytherins sat a little straighter.

"Two of my best friends actually ran away from home because they refused to accept the ideology of pureblood supremacy, and they were punished for it… severely."

Claire winced and squeezed Remus's hand tightly. James didn't know the details of her ordeal, despite the fact that the twins had taken refuge at his house, but Remus knew what her father had done to her, knew the extent of the physical and psychological scarring the vicious man had left on his only daughter.

"One of my closest friends will forever be physically scarred by the attempts of pureblood supremacists to kidnap and torture her in the last few years alone, and that's not even taking into account the extreme emotional damage and the fact that she can't even drink enough pain medication or sleeping potions to relieve her suffering without poisoning herself after all of her troubles."

Olivia bit her lip, a single tear rolling down her face.

"We're qualified wizards now," James said softly, but in the quiet Hall his voice carried to every ear. "We're legal adults and qualified, but we're just kids. We've grown up far too fast. Trust me, for those of you who have yet to experience this, the sight of the body of a friend will haunt you the rest of your life." He gazed down at Mary's empty chair, cleared his throat again, and continued, "But we don't really have a choice. This is a war, whether we like it or not, and even by not taking sides, we're still taking sides. Choosing not to choose will only cause more death, more destruction, more loss, and the most painfully, more years at Hogwarts with empty chairs and broken souls.

"I don't expect you all to drop everything, put your lives on hold, and join a side in this war, although some of us will choose to do just that. I do, however, want to say that no matter what you choose, someday your life will be pulled into the fight, and you'll find yourself needing to stand for something. If you don't make those choices now, if you don't choose the right over the easy while right still feels right, you may find yourself in a situation where you're making a choice you'll regret for the sake of the easiness of it.

"Down the road," he said, little more strongly, "our own children will be sitting here, hopefully without empty chairs at the tables, hopefully telling stories of pranks against Professor McGonagall, Quidditch victories, and friendship. But how many of us will still be here to see it?" He looked down at his classmates. "How many empty seats will there be in the parents' section? Thank you."

There was a strong applause, led vigorously by Professor Dumbledore, and Remus shivered. The table that would have had nine already had ten. Of the nine of them, realistically, how many would actually be here for their own children? How many would even survive the war?

"Thank you, James," Lily said, obviously brushing tears out of her eyes. "Well, that certainly wasn't what I expected him to talk about," she said with a nervous sort of chuckle, "especially after winning an award for that obscene number of detentions he managed to acquire." There was a bit of laughter to diffuse the tension.

"I'd like to take this opportunity," she said, gaining her voice more firmly, "to thank our professors, without whom even the brightest of us would never have learned a thing. Also, I would like to thank Madam Pomfrey, who worked very hard to keep an incredibly challenging group of students healthy and happy, even when we ourselves had no concern for our own health or well-being."

There was a bit of squirming at the Gryffindor table. Sirius looked pointedly at Claire and Olivia, but Remus refrained from doing so. The girls already felt bad enough about the scares they had put their friends through.

"It has certainly been a wild seven years," Lily continued, "with pranks, parties, and what felt like a duel around every corner. Since James shocked everyone by taking a serious note, I suppose I can indulge my friends who begged me to give you a few less-than-serious facts and figures about this graduating class."

She pulled out a little piece of parchment, unfolded it, and cleared her throat.

"The Marauders," she read, "in seven years, have thrown thirty-five wildly successful parties, were responsible for eighty-four pranks that they are willing to take credit for and/or got in trouble for, were engaged in forty-eight duels of both the sanctioned and non-sanctioned variety, lost a total of one thousand, five hundred and five House Points for Gryffindor, earned a total of two thousand, eight hundred and forty-six house points for Gryffindor, and, in their words, brought general joy and entertainment to the cold stone walls of Hogwarts."

The eruption of cheers that spread through all three non-Slytherin tables and the moderate, begrudging sort of applause that the teachers engaged in was deafening. Remus couldn't fight the smile that curled at his lips at the facts and figures, which he knew were compiled by Olivia and Claire, as a part of their Arithmancy project.

"Also," Lily said when the noise died down, "they would like me to note that there have been four engagement rings in this class, one of which is my own," she added, her face flushing as the cheers exploded again.

"And finally," Lily continued, "I would just like to say that although we're leaving Hogwarts, this isn't good-bye. The years we've spent here will forever be a bonding experience in our hearts, and hopefully the friendships we've made will last a lifetime. Wherever your lives take you, I hope Hogwarts will always be your home, as it will always be mine. Thank you, and goodnight."

But although Remus remembered every word of both speeches as the years went on, James's were, sadly, the truer words spoken to life outside the walls of Hogwarts.

The Order was a tough life, hardest on Olivia, who after a brief and painful separate from Sirius decided she couldn't handle life without him and moved in with him only a week before Lily and James's wedding. Audrey topped her year in Charms, and actually won the citizenship prize for Gryffindor.

Three days later, Mrs. Potter died of old age.

Mr. and Mrs. Evans weren't long for the world, either, and had barely received notice of the pregnancy of their daughter before they died in a car crash.

Olivia, after being captured and tortured several times by Death Eaters, was also discovered to be pregnant, and the child was Sirius's. Before she started to show, however, she left him, not telling him about the child they had made together. Claire told him to be patient, that Olivia would come back when things put themselves in better order, and Sirius, although depressed and distraught, took comfort in his sister's words.

Eva Morecomb killed Olivia on the first birthday of their daughter, Charlotte Vega Cromwell (as her birth certificate said), before she had a chance to tell Sirius about why she had left. In fact, she had been on her way to do just that when she died.

Charlotte was taken into safe-keeping by her grandfather, Peter Cromwell, who was getting very old, too old to work. He was sick, dying even, but he was absolutely delighted that he was able to care for his granddaughter.

Remus, who was secretly working on a mission involving the werewolves, helped Claire and Audrey care for Sirius, who was absolutely distraught at the loss of Olivia. Claire did tell him about Charlotte, and they managed to get him a visit with his daughter at the Cromwell Manor.

Things were bad, Remus thought as he watched Sirius tenderly hold the tiny little body of Charlotte, but they could have been so much worse.


	3. Prologue 3: Claire

Claire was sitting alone in the bedroom of the little place in Godric's Hollow Audrey and she had gotten. It was too painful, living in London. She couldn't do it, not after everything that had happened.

Details were fuzzy, as was much of her life after Olivia's death. If she hadn't told Sirius about his daughter, he probably would have drunk himself to death. Even so, there was absolutely no talking him out of being the Secret-Keeper when Lily and James and Harry and Amanda had to go into hiding. She had begged him not to, pleaded that his daughter needed him alive.

"I want more than anything to raise her," he had said, "you know that. But Lily and James need me. If I die, she's got her grandfather, and she's got you and Remus. You two are the best godparents any little girl could ask for… except for me," he said jokingly, biting back the fact that both he and Olivia had been Amanda's godparents, before Olivia had been killed.

Lily had given birth to two healthy, happy, energetic twins. Olivia had been in hiding at Hogwarts at the time, but Audrey and Claire had visited often, helping feed children, change nappies, and keep the little Marauders-in-training preoccupied so that they didn't burn the house down. Even after Olivia's death, once the truth was on the table about Charlotte, there had been a short while when they had all been so happy.

Claire should have known it couldn't last.

Halloween night, just months after Olivia's death, Sirius said he was going to check on the Potters. He did so periodically, ever couple of nights, for the past week. It was a feeling he had, he kept saying, although little Sirius told Claire made sense anymore.

The next thing Claire knew, Lily and James were dead, Amanda and Harry had been taken to live with Lily's awful sister, Petunia, and Sirius was being taken to Azkaban without trial for the murder of Peter Pettigrew, as well as a dozen Muggles.

Peter Pettigrew, yes. That simpering little boy who had followed them around for years, who had fawned over Olivia and hero-worshiped Sirius and James, was dead. All they managed for his sweet, elderly mother was his finger and an Order of Merlin.

The shock, the surprise, the utter disbelief of it all hit Claire like a wrecking ball. Audrey agreed: Sirius had to be innocent. There was no way, no way on earth that Sirius would betray Lily and James, that he would put the lives of his godchildren at risk, that he would kill anyone without it being the last resort… There was no way he would join Voldemort. It was absolutely impossible to comprehend.

Claire had begged, pleaded with everyone she could think of to give her brother a trial, to reexamine the evidence, to listen to her, damn it! But no one, not the Minister nor Barty Crouch, nor Albus Dumbledore himself would believe her. She wrote furious letters to the Ministry and the Daily Prophet, begging for a reconsidering of the facts, for them to at least hear the other side of the story, but no one listened. It didn't take long before she stopped trying.

She and Audrey both spiraled into horrible depressive, aggressive, and even suicidal moods, and they were both locked away in the mental ward of St. Mungo's. Audrey was declared mentally unfit to care for her niece and nephew, who were living with Lily's horrible relatives, and Claire was declared mentally unfit to care for her own niece after the death of Peter Cromwell, so Anne-Claire Cromwell, the bitter, jealous cow she had become, who had no love for the child of her own sister, had been named the legal guardian of Charlotte Vega Cromwell.

Audrey's depression and mental problems were mild in comparison with Claire's, and she was released after several months. She got a place in Godric's Hollow and visited Claire every day.

Claire was diagnosed with depression, anorexia, and schizophrenia. They tried her on a variety of mood-stabilizing medical regimens, forcing her to eat, shoving nutrient potions down her throat, and worked on a variety of anti-hallucinogenic remedies for the fact that she kept seeing her brother and Olivia, talking to them as if they were sitting right beside them. She would wake up in the night screaming of her brother's innocence and sometimes they would have to restrain and gag her. During the course of her various treatments and recoveries, Claire was transferred between four different mental care facilities across Western Europe. At the last of the string, when she started to truly show signs of recovery, she was visited by not only Audrey, but Remus, who had visited her several times in St. Mungo's, but only when he knew she would be asleep.

"Claire," he whispered, brushing away a bit of hair that had stuck to her sweaty cheek and forehead. "Oh, Claire, you look terrible."

"Get me out of this place, Remus," she had whimpered. "I hate it here. They make me drink things, things that take him away from me again. I don't want them to take him away from me. I need him, Remus. I need my brother."

The news that Regulus had died in service of Voldemort hadn't even fazed Claire the way it had Sirius. No doubt, Sirius had felt responsible, somehow, that they couldn't save their brother. But losing Sirius… Well, she was in a mental institution, after all. The location spoke for itself.

A tear rolled down Remus's cheek.

"Claire, sweetheart, they're taking care of you. You're very sick, but they're going to make you better. Just let them make you better, love, and I promise, I'll get you out of here as soon as it's the right thing for you."

But he didn't come back for weeks, months. She had been locked up for seven years by the time they finally decided she was well enough to rejoin normal, sane society and gave her a heavy regimen of potions, strict dietary instructions, and a wish of luck for the future.

Claire was sane, but she wasn't any less furious, any less vicious about what had happened to her brother. Indeed, the knowledge that she and Audrey had been barred from contesting the guardianship of their nieces and nephew made Claire absolutely livid. And then Remus showed up and, if possible, made it all worse.

"Hello, love," he said softly, watching her gather her small box of belongings that she had been allowed with her: A few frameless pictures (her brother wasn't allowed to be in any of them, for the sake of her delusions), the charm off a little necklace Olivia had bought her at graduation (but the chain wasn't allowed, in case she tried to choke herself), and a small pamphlet of letters she had exchanged throughout the years with Olivia, Lily, Audrey, and James. Sirius's letters, few though they were, were not allowed. "This place looks terrible," he commented nervously, "but you look much better."

"You should have seen the one in Switzerland," she said hollowly, "or Italy. I'm not sure which was worse."

"You're right," he said, looking at her, his voice much firmer. "I should have. I should have been there for you. I just… I just couldn't face it. I couldn't even talk to Audrey until she'd been discharged for a few months, I was so out of sorts."

"Were you really," Claire commented dryly, taking the lists of potions and dietary restrictions and tucking them carefully in her box.

"I'm so sorry, Claire," he whispered. "I know asking you to forgive me is asking quite a lot, but I want you to know that I thought of you every minute of every day and I never stopped missing or loving you."

Claire bit her lip. How easy it would be to fall into his arms, say she was wrong and start her life over where it had been, maybe marry Remus and have her own children. But she just couldn't do that. There were things she had to know, standards she had to live by, even if she wasn't allowed to wallow in her grief of indulge in the delusions her mind had created to protect her from the shock.

"Have they given him a trial?" she whispered. Audrey hadn't been allowed to bring any news of Sirius. Even mentioning him could have set it up so that Claire wouldn't be allowed any visitors who weren't bearing a Ministry seal, and Audrey wasn't likely to get one of those.

"N-no," Remus said nervously.

"Have you written to Dumbledore?"

"He says he's guilty, Claire."

"Have you written to the Minister?"

"Claire–"

"Crouch? _The Prophet? The Quibbler?_"

"Claire, please–"

"Jiki would have published it, you know, she and Xeno would have done the right thing by Sirius."

"Claire, please–"

She took a deep breath and hissed, "You think he's guilty, don't you?"

His sad amber eyes looked torn for a moment, and for a split second she thought there might be hope, thought he might be persuaded to her side of things, to helping her free him.

"There's nothing in the world I want more to believe," he said softly, "but I just can't. The evidence is too strong, the charges… I just don't see how he could be innocent, Claire. Believe me, I'm so sorry."

"No you're not," she snapped. "You can't be sorry. How on earth could you believe he's guilty? Do you believe what they're saying about Olivia, too? Do you believe the fact that he turned her over to Voldemort once he found out about his child?"

"No," Remus said firmly, almost with a bit of relief in his voice. "No, of all the things they've blamed him for, that I believe the least. He loved her more than anything, and he didn't know Charlotte existed. He couldn't have known. You saw him when she died. You saw his reaction. You saw the wonder and joy in his eyes when we took him to see his daughter. No, he's not responsible for that. The only person I can lay the blame on is Eva."

"Ah, yes, Eva," Claire snarled. "Please tell me justice caught up with that bitch."

"I meant to tell you in October," Remus said slowly, as if considering whether he wanted to say what he knew. "I told Sirius but then… well, you know."

"The world fell apart," she whispered.

"Yes," he sighed. "Eva was killed during a Death Eater raid. When the Ministry recovered her body, they determined that she was two months pregnant. She may not have even known."

Claire knew she should have felt some sort of horror or motherly sorrow at the story, but all she could feel was a surge of vindictive pleasure. Perhaps she was a Black after all.

"Claire, please come with me," Remus pleaded. "I know it's not going to be easy and we can't just start where we were, but we can start over. I'll take care of you, love."

Oh, how badly she wanted to accept the offer! She so badly wanted, needed, to be taken care of. And she wanted so much to have Remus hold her again, the way he had when they were younger. But her loyalty to Sirius superseded any loyalty or affection for Remus.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I can't."

He didn't bother fighting the tears that welled up in his eyes, and she could barely stand to look at them. Even in the seven years since her first being locked up, he had aged considerably, but it suited him so well.

"Claire, please," he whispered, "please don't do this. Claire, I need you."

And she needed him, but not so much that she was willing to give up her loyalty to Sirius to have him. She knew Remus wouldn't let her go on believing in Sirius's innocence for long. Eventually, he would tire of her need to believe, call her petulant, stubborn, delusional. Merlin, she hated that word. Was it so bad to see things that weren't actually, physically there? Olivia had done just that all the time, and she was praised for what a gifted Seer she was. Claire saw something that wasn't there and she was called delusional, despite her Exceeds Expectations N.E.W.T. in Divination.

"Remus," she said, coldly as she could, "I think you should go. Don't bother contacting me. I doubt either of us is going to change our minds on this matter any time soon. It's better if we just let it go."

Before he could protest, before he could beg her one more time and maybe break through her determination to leave him, she grabbed the Portkey to Godric's Hollow and made her way to Audrey's place, now Claire's and Audrey's place, pausing only for a moment to look at the ruins of Lily and James's house. She would visit their graves later.

But she didn't. The years were going by and she'd been out of the hospital for three years. Her niece, Audrey's niece and nephew, would be starting Hogwarts very soon. Claire had thought of all sorts of crazy ways to see them, like sneaking onto platform nine and three-quarters in disguise and searching for them. But Audrey shot down the idea.

"Claire," she had said kindly, "I want to see them as much as you do, but we can't risk it. You know the second you saw them you'd try to keep them with you, take them back here, away from everything they know with people they've probably never even heard of. Claire, they'd lock you up again for something like that, maybe even for going near them. Just… just think of something you want to do on the first of September, okay? We'll distract ourselves well and proper."

Nothing they did that day had been distracting enough. Claire and Audrey had never moved on. They wrote article after article for The Quibbler, even when Jiki died the year before in a terrible accident with one of her spell experiments. Xeno and their daughter Luna handled the death well, going on as they always had, exactly as Jiki would have wanted, and Kiki became a regular writer for the paper with Claire and Audrey, though on a wider variety of topics than the purported innocence of Sirius Black.

"Jiki believed you, you know," Kiki said one night over wine. "She never believed for a minute that Sirius killed those people. She would take any story that suggested even a glimmer of hope at Sirius's innocence, no matter how crazy it sounded. She would have taken any of them for fact just on the hope that one of them might be true."

Certainly, the quality of the paper had gone down after Jiki's death. She had been the fact-check, the voice of reason in the world of Xeno's impossible fantasies. After her death, he seemed to want even more for the impossible, the absurd, and even became completely obsessed with the Deathly Hallows. Claire knew what that felt like, wanting so badly to change something so out of one's control, and she defended Xeno against all his attackers, whatever it cost her. Despite his outward appearance of calm and acceptance, despite what he preached about things having their reason and everyone having their time, Claire knew that if Xeno got a glimpse of a way to bring back his wife, he would have done it in a heartbeat.

She thought over James's words at their graduation as she fiddled with a few old photographs on September second. Their children were just starting school. Of that table of nine, only she and Remus were still around, because Sirius, while alive, was hardly in any place to be there for his daughter. Their lives had been ripped apart irreparably, and for what?

The Dark Lord was gone. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, had broken his powers somehow. That much was clear. But what did that mean, going forward? How safe were they really? What universal truths were there when that common enemy was no longer there to stand against? What did she fight for now?

She fought for Sirius, yes, but only Audrey and the Lovegoods were willing to come to her aid. It wasn't much of army, half clinically insane, half something very much like it. She couldn't have held a steady job if she'd wanted one; the Ministry had turned her name to dirt. Albus Dumbledore had contacted her once, to tell her how pleased he was that she had made a "full recovery" and that he hoped they could have tea sometime.

Claire ripped the letter into the smallest pieces she could manage and then lit the remains on fire with her wand. Audrey put it out, as Claire had lost track of the kindling in the satisfaction of watching the flame and she left it going well after all the parchment was ashes. Audrey often had to keep Claire from doing things like that… burning the house down on accident, forgetting to eat for a week on end, even nearly drowning herself in a bath by mistake.

It was a fine distinction, but Claire _wasn't_ suicidal. She didn't want to die. If she died, one of Sirius's last voices of support died with her. She just felt more often than not that life wasn't really much worth living anymore. She wasn't trying to kill herself. She just wasn't taking the extra effort to keep herself alive. It was more than enough of a challenge to keep up with her medications, much less everything else in her life.

"Audrey," she whispered to her best friend as the skinnier girl came into the bedrom, "I'm sorry."

Audrey frowned.

"Whatever for?"

"I'm sorry I'm such a burden," Claire sighed. "I know you've got better things to do than to take care of me all the time, and I'm sorry."

Audrey snorted.

"You know, even without you, I would have nothing. Sure, I've got plenty of money, I mean, we've both got plenty between us, but nobody looks at my designs because I was so vocal when Sirius was locked away. If I'm not keeping track of you, I'm working at a shop in Hogsmeade, and not even a classy one. Trust me," Audrey sighed, "I've got nothing better to do than this."


	4. The Vanishing Glass

Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had awoken to find a pair of tiny babies on their front porch, and little had changed. As far as anyone was concerned, there was one boy living at number four, Privet Drive, and the other two were not spoken of or asked after.

Yet Amanda and Harry Potter were still there, asleep at the moment, but not for long. Their Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day.

"Up! Get up! Now!"

Amanda woke with a start. Her aunt rapped on the door again.

"Up!" Aunt Petunia screeched. Amanda heard her aunt making her way into the kitchen and putting the frying pan on the stove. The girl rolled over, right into her twin brother, Harry, who was groggily sitting up.

Their aunt was back outside the door.

"Are you up yet?" she demanded.

"Nearly," said Harry.

"Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday."

Harry groaned.

"What did you just say, boy?"

"Nothing, nothing…"

Dudley's birthday – how could Amanda have forgotten? She and Harry sat up a little, searching around for their things, she for a dressing gown, which was at the foot of the bed, and Harry for his socks. He fished a spider out of the left one. Amanda, unlike many girls her age, did not flinch at the sight of the spider. There were lots of them in the cupboard under the stairs, where they slept.

When they had both dressed sufficiently, they made their way to the kitchen, where the table was piled high with presents for Dudley. Amanda could see the obvious shapes of a computer, a television, and a racing bike. The very idea of Dudley on a racing bike was both comical and bewildering, as Dudley was incredibly large and really had no taste for exercise, unless it involved some sort of violent behavior. Of course, Harry was his absolute favorite outlet for violent behavior, but even Amanda had been swung at a few times.

It might have had something to do with living in the cupboard under the stairs, but the twins were very small for their age, and skinny and pale. They looked even smaller and skinnier than they actually were, on account of all of their clothes being old clothes of Dudley's, and Amanda in particular could have fit about four of herself into anything Dudley had once owned. Harry had round glasses held together by tape where Dudley had punched him repeatedly on the nose, and Amanda was actually rather jealous of his bright green eyes. She had flowing red hair, but her eyes were a dull hazel. For twins, she had thought time and time again, they actually looked nothing alike. Especially with the lightning-bolt scar Harry had on his forehead, which he was immensely proud of, and had had for as long as either of them could remember. He had even asked Aunt Petunia once how he'd gotten it.

"In the car crash when your parents died," she had said. "And don't ask questions."

_Don't ask questions_ – that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys.

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was turning over the bacon.

"Comb your hair!" he barked, by way of a morning greeting.

About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Harry needed a haircut. Harry must have had more haircuts than the rest of the boys in their class put together, but it made no difference, his hair simply grew that way – all over the place.

Harry was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel – Amanda often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig.

Harry put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there was not much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.

"Thirty-six," he said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year."

"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, it's here, under this big one from Mommy and Daddy."

"All right, thirty-seven then," said Dudley, going red in the face. Amanda and Harry, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over.

Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger, too, because she said quickly, "And we'll buy you another _two _presents while we're out today. How's that, popkin? _Two_ more presents. Is that all right?"

Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally he said slowly, "So I'll have thirty… thirty…"

"Thirty-nine, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia.

"Oh." Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then."

Uncle Vernon chuckled.

"Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. 'Atta boy, Dudley!" He ruffled Dudley's hair.

At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Amanda, Harry and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR. He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried.

"Bad news, Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take them." She jerked her head in Amanda and Harry's direction.

Dudley looked horrified, but Amanda felt a surge of hope. Each year on Dudley's birthday, his parents took him and a friend somewhere special, like water parks, hamburger restaurants, and the circus. Every year, on that very same day, Amanda and Harry had to stay with Mrs. Figg, an elderly lady who lived a street over and lived with her many cats in a house that reeked of cabbage. She made Harry and Amanda look at pictures of her cats and fed them her exceptionally awful cooking. It was, possibly, Amanda's least favorite day of the year.

"Now what?" said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Amanda and Harry as though they had planned this. Amanda knew she shouldn't feel such joy at the thought of Mrs. Figg breaking her leg, but the realization that it would be a whole year before she would have to look at pictures of Mr. Tibbles and the lot made her so pleased that she simply could help it.

"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested.

"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates them."

The Dursleys often spoke in this way, as if Amanda and Harry weren't right there, or as if they were some sort of unpleasant thing that couldn't hear them talk about how disgusting it was.

"What about what's-her-name, your friend – Yvonne?"

"On vacation in Majorca," snapped Aunt Petunia.

"You could just leave us here," Harry put in hopefully.

Aunt Petunia looked as though she had just swallowed a lemon.

"And come back and find the house in ruins?" she snarled.

"I won't blow up the house," said Amanda, but they were not listening.

"I suppose we could take them to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly, "…and leave them in the car…."

"That car's new; they're not sitting in it together unsupervised…."

Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he was not really crying – it had been years since he had really cried – but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted.

"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let him spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him.

"I…don't…want…him…t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. "He always sp-spoils everything!" He shot Amanda a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms.

Just then the doorbell rang – "Oh, good Lord, they're here!" said Aunt Petunia frantically – and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He was usually the one who held people's arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once.

Half an hour later, Amanda, who could not believe their luck, and Harry were sitting in the back of the Dursleys' car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo for the first time in their lives. Their aunt and uncle had not been able to think of anything else to do with them, but before they had left, Uncle Vernon had taken the twins aside.

"I'm warning you," he said, putting his large purple face right up close to Amanda's, "I'm warning you now, the both of you – any funny business, anything at all – and you'll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas."

"We're not going to do anything," said Amanda, "honestly…"

But Uncle Vernon did not believe her. No one ever did.

The problem was, strange things were a staple around Amanda and Harry, and try as they might, they just could not convince the Dursleys that they weren't responsible for them.

Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming back from the barbers looking as though he had not been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short he was almost bald except for his bangs, which she left "to hide that horrible scar." Dudley had laughed himself silly at Harry, who spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day, where he was already laughed at for his baggy clothes and taped glasses. Next morning, however, he had gotten up to find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off. He had been given a week in his cupboard for this, even though he had tried to explain that he could _not_ explain how it had grown back so quickly.

Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force Amanda into a revolting old sweater of Dudley's (brown with orange puff balls). The harder she tried to pull it over her niece's head, the smaller it seemed to become, until it finally might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly would not fit Amanda. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to her great relief, Amanda was not punished.

On the other hand, they had gotten into terrible trouble for being found on the roof of the school kitchens. The pair had been running, per usual, from the gang that Dudley surrounded himself with and had gone to jump behind some rubbish bins, only to find themselves shocked as anyone when they landed, not on the solid ground behind the bins, but actually on the roof. Despite their protests that the wind must have caught them mid-jump (for how else could such a strange thing occur?), the twins had been locked up in the cupboard for quite some time after that incident.

But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with Dudley and Piers to be spending the day somewhere that was not school, their cupboard, or Mrs. Figg's cabbage-smelling living room.

While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to complain about things: people at work, Harry, the council, Amanda, the bank, and Harry were just a few of his favorite subjects. This morning, it was motorcycles.

"…roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," he said, as a motorcycle overtook them.

"I had a dream about a motorcycle," said Harry. "It was flying."

Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. He turned right around in his seat and yelled at Harry, his face like a gigantic beet with a mustache: "MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!"

Dudley and Piers sniggered.

"I know they don't," said Harry. "It was only a dream."

But Amanda wished Harry hadn't said anything, as lovely as the dream sounded. The Dursleys took great exception to anything behaving other than it ought to, even in television programs and comic books. They seemed to find imagination to be a very dangerous sort of thing.

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance and then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked Amanda and Harry what they wanted before the Dursleys could hurry them away, they bought them each a cheap lemon ice pop. It was not bad, either, Amanda thought, licking it as they watched a gorilla scratching its head that looked remarkably like Dudley, except that it was not blond.

Amanda and Harry had the best afternoon either could remember having for quite a long time. They walked a bit apart from the others, which meant that it would have taken effort for the now-bored Dudley and Piers to resort to hitting Harry or Amanda. They had had lunch at the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley complained that his knickerbocker glory was insufficient, Uncle Vernon ordered him another and allowed Amanda and Harry to split the rest of the first.

Amanda felt, afterward, that she should have known it was all too good to last.

After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see massive, poisonous, man-crushing snakes and vicious creatures. It didn't take Dudley long to find the largest snake, which could have wrapped around Uncle Vernon's car several times, crunched it up and tossed it in the bin. Unfortunately for Dudley, the snake was fast asleep and didn't appear to be close to waking.

Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils.

"Make it move," he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake did not budge.

"Do it again," Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on.

"This is boring," Dudley moaned. He shuffled away.

Amanda and Harry moved in front of the snake, sympathizing with it very much. Amanda knew what it was like, to be locked up in a small, confined space, someone wrapping on her door when she was trying to sleep, being utterly obnoxious and inconsiderate. It must be a rather dull, frustrating sort of life, watching the sad zoo-goers, thinking themselves so important, so significant, while the snake simply wanted to be left along to its own life, without idiots tapping on the glass all day.

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Harry's.

_It winked_.

Amanda stared. Then she looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. They were not. She looked back in time to see Harry wink back at the creature.

The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Harry a look that said quite plainly:

"_I get that all the time_."

Amanda found herself shocked when Harry leaned forward and hissed lightly at the glass. She had no idea what was going on, but it gave her skin chills.

The snake nodded vigorously.

Harry hissed again, and Amanda jumped slightly. Was he _talking_ to the thing?

The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Amanda peered at it.

Boa Constrictor, Brazil.

Harry hissed again.

The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Amanda read on: This specimen was bred in the zoo. There was more hissing from Harry and Amanda was starting to get very crept out.

As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind Amanda made the three of them jump. "DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T _BELIEVE_ WHAT IT'S DOING!"

Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could.

"Out of the way, you," he said, punching Harry in the ribs. Caught by surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor. What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened – one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror.

Harry sat up and gasped; the glass in front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits.

The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.

"But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass go?"

The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As far as Amanda had seen, the snake had not done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon's car, Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg while Piers was swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death. But worst of all, for Amanda and Harry at least, was Piers calming down enough to say, "Harry was talking to it, weren't you, Harry?"

Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting on the twins, because one of them doing something nearly always meant both of them were to be punished. He was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to say, "Go – cupboard – stay – no meals," before he collapsed into a chair and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.


	5. Daddy

Charlotte Cromwell's grandfather had died six years ago, and since then she had been "raised" by her Aunt Anne-Claire. The manor stayed the same, although Charlotte inhabited what had once been her mother's room, and Peter Cromwell's old room gathered dust faster than Drizza the house-elf could clean it up. The toys of a small child were boxed away in the attic, and books and toys of a young girl were now the majority inhabitants of the lonely manor.

Anne-Claire had a very important job, so she was usually gone by the time Charlotte was awakened for breakfast and came home after Charlotte had been sent to bed. Anne-Claire never celebrated her own birthday, which was in October, and almost always forgot about Charlotte's in August, until Drizza reminded her the week before, and again the night before. It was the only thing they ever celebrated, as Anne-Claire often worked over Christmas and the whole other gambit of holidays. In fact, Charlotte's birthday was her favorite day of the year, because it was the one day she felt like people actually thought about her existing.

Charlotte was a pretty girl, with short, dark hair and brilliant green eyes, like her mother and not like her aunt. There were pictures in the house of women that looked just like her, and Drizza had told her about each picture; some were of her mother, and some were of her grandmother. Charlotte was petite, but not incredibly so. She was mildly athletic, but preferred usually to be curled up with some book, since there were no other children for her to play with. When she played, she would make up games she could do by herself, or she would get on her mother's old broomstick and fly around in circles until she didn't have any energy left. But when she read, she could imagine that the people were her friends, even the people in the history books. Historical people needed friends, too, after all, to help them accomplish great things.

Occasionally, her aunt would come home at lunch to receive a visitor, an incredibly old man who stayed shut up in his stays with her aunt, and wave kindly to Charlotte as Aunt Anne-Claire showed him out. The meetings were brief and infrequent, but Charlotte relished them, as they were a rare opportunity to experience someone from the world beyond the manor. She had taken to imagining at times that the kind-looking old man would come and take her away to be with her father, whoever he was, and she and Drizza would live with her father, who loved her very much, but didn't know where to find her because her aunt kept her locked away in the house. The daydreams were happy, but vague, as she had never seen her father.

One of the more joyful experiences in her life was Drizza taking her through certain parts of the daily chores, like tending to the gardens or cleaning remote parts of the house. Charlotte liked to pretend she was on adventures through the house, and sometimes they did discover interesting things, like old trinkets of her mother's or a batch of flowers Drizza was sure she had not planted. Those were the best things, Charlotte decided, because they were unexpected. She didn't like surprises much, because surprises had a tendency to be unwanted, but unexpected, nice little things were the best nice little things of all.

On a particularly warm and sweet summer evening, Charlotte found herself curled up on a bench in the garden with a photo album Drizza had come across in the attic of her mother and aunt when they were her age. It showed them playing, running through the garden, and visiting with their grandparents. There was even one picture with Charlotte's grandfather in it. She tried to pull her own image of him into her mind, from when he was still alive. He had been tired, bed-ridden, and quite ill for all the time Charlotte could remember, nothing like the powerful man the history books described him as. She looked at the picture of the dashing young man to compare it with her memory and found herself shocked. The two men were less than twenty years apart in age and yet the differences were astounding. What had her grandfather gone through, that he had aged so much so fast?

She heard footsteps and jumped, nearly closing the album in surprise. Her aunt came over and sat down beside her with an unreadable expression. Charlotte turned to see the door, expecting the visitor to have been around, but he had not, and she realized it was a foolish thought. He never visited so late in the day. The question then was why was her aunt visiting with her? They only ever talked at dinner, and even then it wasn't much of a conversation. Charlotte usually was being lectured on proper behavior of a young lady of her age and status.

Apparently, Charlotte ran wild.

Anne-Claire looked at the photo album with great interest. "Oh my, this is quite an old little book. I was younger than you in these pictures, by a couple of years. Your mother was so pretty, even then."

Charlotte flipped through the pages, seeing the girls grow a little bit older. "What happened, between you and my mum? Why did you stop speaking? Did she say mean things?"

Anne-Claire sighed and wrapped Charlotte up in a rare hug. "Your mother and I loved each other, but we had different views of the world. She took a lot of risks. It's just the way she was. Your grandfather was the same way. We didn't mean to stop speaking, but when you came along, she shut herself away from everyone for a while. I think she was thinking about things, and her priorities. She finally had a reason to stop being so careless. But there were things she had to take care of, so she came out of her hiding for a little while. I didn't get a chance to see her. Very few people did."

Charlotte nodded, having been told this story from Drizza several times. "And that's when she died. She was going to see my father. What happened to my father? Why doesn't he love me enough to live with me?"

"Well, it's difficult to say," Anne-Claire said slowly. "Very few people knew who he was. There are very complicated things surrounding where your father is, political things, safety concerns. I suppose when you're old enough, someone will tell you, but for right now, just know that your mother at least loved you very much."

"Do you know who he is?"

Anne-Claire had a very good guess, but she hoped it was wrong, so instead she said, "I don't think I do. She never told me. Like I said, we didn't speak when she came out of hiding." It was not exactly a lie. "Anyway, it's long past time for you to be in bed. Drizza's not feeling well, so I'm going to be getting you up a little early so that you can have breakfast with me before I leave for work. You'll be on your own tomorrow, it looks like. Try not to bother Drizza unless there's something important. She'll let you know if she needs something, and you still need to do as she asks all right?"

Charlotte nodded and went off to bed early, feeling very sorry that Drizza was not feeling well, and setting the photo album by her bed before drifting to sleep.

The world Charlotte had grown up in was a nice one, she decided the next day, pouring massive amounts of syrup on her pancakes. Her grandfather had left them a lovely house, a sweet house-elf, and enough money that Charlotte could pour syrup on her pancakes like it was nothing and her aunt really didn't have a case for chastising her. There were books in the library, plenty of space for running and flying, and a lovely garden to explore and pretend to be an adventurer in. The only real problem with it was the snakes, but Anne-Claire had allowed Drizza to ward the garden of snakes so that Charlotte could play there without fear.

That was her biggest fear, actually. Snakes were horrible, scaly, menacing looking things, even the ones Drizza claimed were the nice ones. Nothing made Charlotte lose more sleep than the thought of a giant, vicious, little-girl-eating snake. And she was quite sure there was a variety which ate little girls. There was every sort of snake variety.

She sat up that day, coloring. Charlotte colored things she had only ever seen in her mind's eye. She knew that some of the things that she drew made her aunt, and even Drizza, nervous, but she couldn't help the things she saw, and it made her feel better to put them down on parchment.

That afternoon, she had taken a piece of charcoal and sat down at the parchment, drawing a large, ominous-looking building on an island. The sea was a stormy sort of gray, the building was dark, and in one window of the building, through bars, there was a man (Or was he a dog? He was so hairy, it was hard for her to tell) looking out over the sea sadly. She felt a strong sort of affinity for this man, though she didn't exactly know why. It must not be enjoyable, sitting on a lonely island, staring out at the sea, but she supposed it must have been a grand adventure that brought him there. All of the worst places were reached by grand adventures, just as they were often left by way of grand adventures as well.

That night at dinner, her aunt brought a visitor. It was not the old man, but rather a portly man in a pinstriped suit and a lime-green bowler hat. He seemed pleasant enough, but Charlotte wasn't nearly as happy to see him as she was every time she saw the kind-looking old man. This man, however, was a dinner guest.

"Charlotte," Anne-Claire said softly, "I want to introduce you to my boss, Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic."

"Oh," said Charlotte, not sure what she was supposed to do with such information. A stern look from her aunt caused the necessary training to kick in, however. "It's very lovely to meet you, Minister," she said sweetly, although she didn't think any such thing. "I hope you're quite well?"

"She's absolutely charming, Anne-Claire!" the man said jovially. "She's just positively delightful! It's a shame you don't take her to work with you, you know. The secretaries would just adore her!"

Charlotte thought she saw her aunt flinch.

"You know very well I can't do that, Cornelius," her aunt said steadily. "She will be brought into society soon enough without me dragging her around the wizarding world with me. It's a strict stipulation of my father's will."

"Well, you know, your father wasn't at all well when he rewrote that," the Minister reasoned. "And after all, you know full well the conditions of that stipulation are completely out of the question!"

"She's been out for a while now."

"She's not fit to care for a child! She can't even care for herself, you know, she's been shacked up with Audrey Potter since she was released and they've been writing for the _Quibbler_…"

"Yes, I'm well aware," Anne-Claire said shortly. "I've read some of it, actually. You're forgetting I knew them both in school. Those articles seem far from the work of a madwoman to me. She actually sounds quite reasonable."

"Reasonable! My dear Anne-Claire, are you suggesting that we should take that lunatic–"

Anne-Claire cleared her throat, gestured down to Charlotte, and shook her head, which caused the Minister to look rather sheepish, something that Charlotte thought became him quite nicely. Although, she didn't think sheepish was a trait that ought to become a Minister of Magic. At any rate, he seemed suddenly reminded of Charlotte's presence and ended the conversation she didn't quite understand.

Dinner was exceedingly dull. Her aunt and the Minister discussed many important governmental things which Charlotte was neither knowledgeable of nor interested in. Then, the Minister turned his attention to Charlotte.

"So, Charlotte," he said, "what do you like to do?"

With a quick glance at her aunt to be sure that she was supposed to respond, Charlotte said, "I fly a bit, or I read."

She left out drawing. Something that made her aunt so uneasy was likely not something to tell the Minister of Magic about.

"What sort of books?"

"History books, mostly," Charlotte said honestly. "We have a lot of them in the library."

"She's fascinated with the war," her aunt said darkly. "She asks all sorts of questions she oughtn't to know the answers to and if I don't give them to her, she goes and finds many of them herself."

"Oh," the Minister said with a slight frown. "Well, I suppose it's only natural for someone who is orphaned by the war to be curious. I suspect there are a great many children your age with a good deal of questions–"

"Do you know who my father is, Minister?" Charlotte said quickly, monopolizing on the fact he had all but just said that it was all right to ask questions. The man's face turned fuchsia quite rapidly, however, and Anne-Claire's eyes widened to nearly the size of Drizza's.

"Charlotte!" she cried. "That was very rude and you shouldn't have asked such a question!"

Charlotte wasn't entirely sure what was wrong with the question. Perhaps she shouldn't have cut him off as he spoke, but she didn't want to leave it to chance that her aunt would change the subject. Even if her aunt didn't know the answer, surely someone as well-informed as the Minister of Magic must know. Her grandfather had mentioned that both of her parents had fought in the war. That meant that her father must have been in some way historically significant, that the Minister probably had to deal with him at one point or another. The entire Ministry dealt with war heroes in some capacity.

And although no one had ever said it in so many words, Charlotte was sure that her father must have been a war hero. After all, if he lived a high profile life, it would explain why she couldn't live with him: for whatever reason, according to her grandfather's will and her mother's will, she was supposed to be kept hidden away until she was old enough for school. A high profile father would make that very difficult. Obviously, that was also why she had been given her mother's name, better for hiding her. Whoever the people looking for her were, they were probably well aware of who her father was, and likely searching for her under his name. It made quite a bit of logical sense.

The Minister and her aunt managed to change the topic of conversation rather effectively, mostly by barring her from it and talking over her head. Charlotte hated adults talking over her head. She hated being treated like she was less capable of understanding or dealing with things because she was younger. After all, hadn't they been ten once, as well? Hadn't adults talked over their heads, and hadn't they not liked it very much either?

At the first opportunity, Charlotte bid the Minister goodnight and left the adults to their tea, rushing upstairs to the balcony of one of the guest rooms, one that had a wonderful, spicy scent. She didn't know why, but it was a comfort to her when she was upset. There must have been a time in her life where she had known, intuitively, at least, what that scent meant, who it represented, or something like that, but she couldn't remember, so it must have been quite a long time ago.

Tears streaming down her cheeks she looked out at the garden from the balcony, hiding in her special spot of the guest room that never was used. It had become Charlotte's favorite room in the house, and she had pasted all of her drawings to the walls, particularly the ones her aunt found most disturbing to look at. Just before dinner, she had pasted up the picture of the man in the building on the island in the sea, just beside one of a large black dog cuddling with a small, dark-haired ferret. She didn't know why, but that picture had made her very pleased to look at, despite the fact that her aunt had had little more than a confused reaction to it.

Charlotte settled down on the balcony, sniffing a little, burying her face in her arms as the tears streamed down her cheek. No, she wasn't the only person who had lost family in the war. She certainly wasn't even the most famous case, although Drizza had told her that everyone knew about her mother's death, and that the funeral had been massively attended for a war-time funeral for a single person. But Charlotte felt so empty, so lonely.

Was it so bad to want to know her father? Whatever it was, whatever reasons they had for keeping her from him… surely she deserved to know his name at the very least, to know the reasons her father wasn't with her. The manor was like a big, empty tomb most days, certainly not a place for a ten-year-old girl to grow up alone.

Charlotte was tired, but she didn't want to go back to her room. Instead, she curled up in the spicy-scented sheets and buried her face in the smell of the pillow, which was cool from being unused for so long. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

"Daddy," she murmured sleepily. "I love you, Daddy. Even if you don't love me. I'm sorry for whatever the reason is you don't want me. Please don't leave me here forever."

And she fell asleep hugging the pillow tightly, the blankets cascading around her as a single, silent tear rolled down her cheek.


	6. Letters from No One

Amanda and Harry were lying in their dark cupboard much later, unsure of when it was, Amanda wishing one of them had a watch. Her stomach was growling, and it wasn't safe to sneak into the kitchen if she wasn't sure the Dursleys were asleep yet.

The twins had lived for ten horrible, miserable years with the Dursleys, ever since their parents had died in the aforementioned car crash. Of course, she had been very young, but Amanda couldn't seem to remembering having been in the car when it happened. Sometimes, in dreams or when she strained her memory long enough in one of her long stays in the cupboard, she could see a blinding flash of green light. She supposed that must be the car crash, although she couldn't possibly think of where all the green light had come from. The Dursleys had never talked about it, and she and Harry were, naturally, forbidden to ask questions. There wasn't even a picture of them in the house.

When Amanda had been younger, more naïve, she used to dream of some unknown, distant relative coming and taking her and Harry away to live with them, but it had never happened. The Dursleys were definitely their only family, if you could call them that. Sometimes, though it seemed very much that strangers on the street knew them, and they were certainly the strangest of strangers. A man in a violet top hat had bowed to them in a shop once. Aunt Petunia, asking several times quite anxiously whether the twins knew him or not, decided to rush them all out of the shop rather quickly without buying anything. A strange old woman had waved at them on the underground and a man in a strange sort of suit and smiled at them at a crosswalk. The most significant thing that all of these strangers had in common was that they seemed to disappear the moment Amanda tried to get a better look at them.

At school, Amanda and Harry had no one but each other. It was common knowledge that Dudley's gang disapproved of those strange twins, Amanda and Harry Potter in their baggy clothes, and no one dared disagree with Dudley's gang.

/-/

The boa constrictor incident had earned Amanda and Harry their longest ever punishment: By the time they were let out of the cupboard under the stairs, summer holidays had begun, Dudley had broken half of his birthday presents, and even managed to knock down poor Mrs. Figg on his racing bike as she hobbled across the street on her crutches.

Amanda was thrilled that school was over, but there was no escaping Dudley's gang, who were over every day. Piers, Malcolm, Dennis, and Gordon were all big and stupid, but Dudley was biggest and stupidest of the lot: he was their leader. They were all perfectly happy to join in on Dudley's favorite sport, as well: Harry Hunting.

This was a large reason why Amanda and Harry spent so much time out of the house, wandering the neighborhood. Of course, there was a glimmer of hope on the horizon. In September, the three of them would be going off to secondary school, and for the first time in their lives, they would not be with Dudley. Their cousin had been accepted at Uncle Vernon's old public school, where Piers Polkiss would also be going. Amanda and Harry, on the other hand, would be attending Stonewall High, the local state school. Dudley found this very funny.

"They stuff people's heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall," he told Amanda and Harry. "Want to come upstairs and practice?"

"No, thanks," said Harry. "The poor toilet's never had anything as horrible as your head down it – it might be sick." Then he and Amanda ran before Dudley could work out what he'd said.

One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Amanda and Harry in the care of Mrs. Figg. The old woman wasn't quite up to her usual near-unbearable form. It seemed she had broken her leg tripping over one of her cats and she wasn't nearly as eager about them as she typically was. She allowed Amanda and Harry to watch television, and even gave them a bit of chocolate cake which tasted as though she'd had it for several years.

That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand-new uniform. Smelting's boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried knobbly looking sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers were not looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life.

As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she could not believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins, he looked so handsome and grown-up. Amanda did not trust herself to speak, and from Harry's expression, they were in similar predicaments. Harry was trying very hard not to laugh, and Amanda could feel the pressure on her own ribs from the incredible, unfair strain.

/-/

Charlotte's days with Drizza not being well turned out to be far less lonely than Charlotte had expected. Drizza had asked her to stay close by and keep her company, which Charlotte did gratefully. She curled up in the bed next to Drizza, with a book she had been reading, intent on asking her a few questions. Drizza was a very old elf, and had seen many things, and remembered them all.

"Drizza, what do you know about Amanda and Harry Potter? I was reading about them the other day."

Drizza smiled weakly. "Well, not long after you came to stay with us, after your mother had died, You-Know-Who went after Amanda and Harry Potter's parents, Lily and James. He had tried to turn them, as well as your mother, several times, but I guess this time was the last, and he killed them. He tried to kill their son Harry, and nobody knows what happened, Miss Charlotte, but he couldn't. And his powers broke somehow, and Harry Potter is the Boy Who Lived."

Charlotte nodded, having read that much dozens of times. "They're about my age, aren't they?"

Drizza nodded. "Yes, I expect you'll be in the same class when you start school."

"But I thought they went to live with the Muggles?"

With a soft laugh, Drizza replied, "Yes, but they're not Muggles. They'll be going to school with you, I guarantee it. Just like your parents went to school together."

Charlotte sat up. "Really? My mum knew the Potters?"

"Of course, Miss Charlotte, they were all in Gryffindor together. Mistress Anne-Claire knew the Potters as well, through your mother, and she dated Master James for a short while. Your mother stayed over with Lily a couple of holidays, and both Lily and James had their fair shares of time in this house."

Drawing her knees up to her chin eagerly, Charlotte asked, "What were they like?"

Drizza tilted her head thoughtfully and said, "Well, Miss Lily was a sweet thing, very polite, treated me quite well. Actually she treated everyone quite well. There were two girls who visited with her, sometimes… Miss Audrey and Miss Claire, and they were very sweet, but last I heard they were in the hospital, very sick, Mistress Anne-Claire said. Master James was very proud, very funny. He was a leader, born and bred, and he and Miss Olivia always had a group of boys around them. Master Sirius, Master Remus, and Master Peter. I believe that Master Remus is the only one left of them. The war was a brutal time."

Charlotte lay down next to Drizza once more. "I can't wait to go to school. I hope I meet Amanda and Harry Potter. Maybe we'll be friends too, just like our parents. I think that would be a fine adventure."

Drizza's snores lulled Charlotte into a nap, and they passed the rest of the afternoon dozing in bed.

/-/

There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when Amanda and Harry went in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. Amanda went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in gray water.

"What's this?" Harry asked Aunt Petunia. Her lips tightened as they always did if he dared to ask a question.

"Your new school uniforms," she said.

Harry looked in the bowl again.

"Oh," he said, "I didn't realize they had to be so wet."

"Don't be stupid," snapped Aunt Petunia. "I'm dyeing some of Dudley's old things gray for you. It'll look just like everyone else's when I've finished."

Amanda seriously doubted this, but she knew better than to argue. She sat down at the table and tried not to think about what she and Harry would look like walking into Stonewall with their new school uniforms: probably like they were wearing bits of old elephant hide.

Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from Amanda and Harry's new uniforms. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table.

They heard the click of the mail slot and the flop of letters on the doormat.

"Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.

"Make Harry get it."

"Get the mail, Harry."

"Make Dudley get it."

"Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley."

Harry dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Amanda sighed slightly, not wanting to attract the attention of Dudley, who seemed eager to continue swinging his Smelting stick, despite the fact that his initial target was no longer in the room. Despite the fact that the kitchen and the foyer were right next to each other, Harry had yet to return to the kitchen.

"Hurry up, boy!" shouted Uncle Vernon. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" He chuckled at his own joke.

Harry came back to the kitchen, still staring at a letter. He handed Uncle Vernon a bill and a postcard, sat down, and slowly began to open then yellow envelope, setting another strange yellow envelope in front of Amanda. She froze.

There was a letter, and it was addressed to her. Amanda had a letter. The address, strange address that it was, was written in emerald ink, and the envelope was made of a thick, parchment-like material. She turned it over and looked at the seal, with a few animals surrounding a large letter "H". It looked fancy and important, and she turned it around to the front to make sure it was addressed to her again before she began to open it.

Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard.

"Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk…"

"Dad!" said Dudley suddenly. "Dad, Amanda and Harry have got something!"

Amanda was on the point of unfolding her letter, which was written on the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of her hand by Uncle Vernon, and Harry's from his hands as well.

"That's mine!" said Amanda, trying to snatch it back.

"Who'd be writing to you?" sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking the letter open with one hand and glancing at it. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it did not stop there. Within seconds it was the grayish white of old porridge.

"P-P-Petunia!" he gasped.

Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it high out of his reach. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise.

"Vernon! Oh my goodness – Vernon!"

They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Harry and Dudley were still in the room. Dudley was not used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick.

"I want to read that letter," he said loudly.

"I want to read it," said Amanda furiously, "as it's mine."

"Get out, all of you," croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope.

Harry did not move.

"I WANT MY LETTER!" he shouted.

"Let me see it!" demanded Dudley.

"OUT!" roared Uncle Vernon, and he took both Harry and Dudley by the scruffs of their necks and threw them into the hall, slamming the kitchen door behind Amanda, who had walked out quietly, knowing it would be foolish of her to argue when even Dudley was being told 'no', for what felt like the first time she could remember. Amanda, Harry, and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen from the keyhole; Dudley won, so Harry, his glasses dangling from one ear, lay flat on his stomach to listen at the crack between the door and the floor, and Amanda was right beside him, their noses very nearly touching.

"Vernon," Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, "look at the address – how could they possibly know where they sleep? You don't think they're watching the house?"

"Watching – spying – might be following us," muttered Uncle Vernon wildly.

"But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don't want –"

Amanda could see Uncle Vernon's shiny black shoes pacing up and down the kitchen.

"No," he said finally. "No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get an answer… Yes, that's best… we won't do anything…."

"But –"

"I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took them in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?"

/-/

That same morning, Charlotte woke to find Aunt Anne-Claire in the study with the elderly visitor. Drizza was in the kitchen making breakfast and Charlotte decided she must have woken early, so she snuck over to listen to the conversation in the study, curious about the old man she had always found so interesting.

"Albus, what is this all about? I mean, you know she's going. Why don't you just send the letter and everything the usual way?"

Albus the old man fiddled with the tea Drizza must have made him and he smiled up at Aunt Anne-Claire. "Miss Cromwell, I know you, and I know you don't have time to waste getting the girl ready for school. Since one of my employees is going to have to track down and assist two of our orphaned accepted, I thought it might be useful for you to have Charlotte go along and just have them all taken care of at the same time. It's a service we are able to offer to students who have been orphaned, at least the first year, before they develop contacts who can help them. Since your niece is effectively orphaned…"

Aunt Anne-Claire stood. "Albus, that's an excellent idea. She'll be safe?"

The man smiled. "I assure you, she'll be in the best of hands and will be returned to you as soon as it's finished. You may drop her off at King's Cross on your way to work the morning of the first, naturally."

"Naturally. Well, thank you for setting this up. I was beginning to worry about having to take a day off. I couldn't ask Drizza to traipse her around Diagon Alley and all that in her condition."

"Of course. I'll send my employee to collect her soon."

/-/

That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he had never done before; he visited Amanda and Harry in their cupboard.

"Where's our letters?" said Harry, the moment Uncle Vernon had squeezed through the door. "Who's writing to us?"

"No one. It was addressed to you by mistake," said Uncle Vernon shortly. "I have burned them."

"It was not a mistake," said Harry angrily, "it had our cupboard on it."

"SILENCE!" yelled Uncle Vernon and a couple of spiders fell from the ceiling. He took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, which looked quite painful.

"Er – yes, Harry – about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking… you're getting a bit big for it… we think it might be nice if you two moved into Dudley's second bedroom."

"Why?" said Amanda.

"Don't ask questions!" snapped her uncle. "Take this stuff upstairs, now."

The Dursley's house had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge), one where Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that wouldn't fit into his first bedroom. It only took Harry one trip upstairs to moved everything he owned from the cupboard to this room. He sat down on the bed and stared around him. Nearly everything in here was broken. The month-old video camera was lying on top of a small, working tank Dudley had once driven over the next door neighbor's dog; in the corner was Dudley's first-ever television set, which he had put his foot through when his favorite program had been canceled; there was a large birdcage which had once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at school for a real air rifle, which was up on the shelf with the end all bent because Dudley had sat on it. Other shelves were full of books. They were the only things in the room that looked as though they had never been touched. From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother, "I don't want them in there… I need that room… make them get out…."

Amanda sighed and stretched out on the bed which she and Harry would be sharing. Yesterday she would have given anything to be up here. Today she would rather be back in their cupboard with that letter than up here without it.


	7. Diagon Alley

Charlotte woke early the next morning. She sat up and looked over at Amanda and Harry. Their eyes were shut, but she could tell Harry at least was awake by the way he muttered determinedly to himself.

There was suddenly a loud tapping noise.

_He probably thinks it was all a dream_, Charlotte thought, bemused. But he still would not open his eyes.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"All right," Harry mumbled, "I'm getting up."

He sat up and Hagrid's heavy coat fell off the three of them. The hut was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed sofa, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak.

Harry scrambled to his feet and looked down at Charlotte, who gave him a friendly, cheerful smile. He smiled back at her, almost relieved. He went straight to the window and jerked it open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who did not wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack Hagrid's coat.

"Don't do that," Harry said, frowning.

He tried to wave the owl out of the way, but it snapped its beak fiercely at him and carried on savaging the coat.

"Hagrid!" said Harry loudly. "There's an owl – "

"Pay him," Hagrid grunted into the sofa.

Harry looked confused.

"He wants payin' fer deliverin' the paper. Look in the pockets."

Hagrid's coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets – bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, teabags… finally Harry, Amanda, and Charlotte pulled out some coins, which Amanda and Harry considered, astonished.

"Give him five Knuts," said Hagrid sleepily.

The twins looked very confused now.

"The little bronze ones. Charlotte knows."

Charlotte counted out five Knuts, and the owl held out his leg so Harry could put the money into a small leather pouch tied to it. Then he flew off through the open window.

Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched.

"Best be off, you three, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer stuff fer school."

Harry was turning over the wizard coins and looking at them. His happy face turned almost instantly into a concerned frown. He and Amanda shared a look of disappointment.

"Um – Hagrid?" Amanda said, tentatively.

"Mm?" said Hagrid, who was pulling on his huge boots.

She nodded at Harry. He spoke, worried. "We haven't got any money – and you heard Uncle Vernon last night… he won't pay for us to go and learn magic."

"Don't worry about that," said Hagrid, standing up and scratching his head. "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?"

Charlotte frowned. "But if their house was destroyed – "

"They didn't keep their gold in their house, no more 'n yer mum did, Charlotte! Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Have a sausage, they're not bad cold – an' I wouldn' say no to a bit o' yer birthday cake, neither."

"Wizards have banks?" Harry asked, interested.

"Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins."

Harry dropped the bit of sausage he was holding and Charlotte jumped.

"Goblins?" he cried. Charlotte had never been to London, much less Gringotts, and she had never met a goblin, but she had heard they were nasty creatures. In some ways, she was very much like the Potters, who had been raised by Muggles. Her own interactions with the wizarding world were limited.

"Yeah – so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, Harry. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe – 'cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." Hagrid drew himself up proudly. "He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin' you – getting' things from Gringotts – knows he can trust me, see.

"Got everythin'? Come on, then."

Harry, Amanda and Charlotte followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat the Dursleys and Potters must have taken over was still there, with a lot of water in the bottom after the storm.

"How did you get here?" Amanda asked, looking around, Charlotte figured, for another boat.

"Flew," said Hagrid.

Charlotte nodded at Harry's look of disbelief. She could barely believe it either, flying in on some invisible creature, which Hagrid had shooed away upon landing. It was not the most comfortable of experiences.

"Yeah – but we'll go back in this. Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've got yeh."

They settled down in the boat, Amanda still staring at Hagrid, probably trying to imagine him flying.

"Seems a shame ter row, though," said Hagrid, giving Harry and Charlotte another of his sideways looks. "If I was ter – er – speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?"

"Of course not," said Charlotte, and Amanda and Harry shook their heads vigorously. Hagrid pulled out the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and they sped off toward land.

At first on their journey, Charlotte told Amanda and Harry everything Drizza had told her about her mother, and her friendship with the Potters, and how her own mother had died in the war. The twins listened intently, and looked very sad when she told him about her mother dying, and how nobody seemed to know who her father was, but that it was likely he was dead, too. When they sat silent, for a moment, Harry reengaged Hagrid in the conversation by changing the subject.

"Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?" he asked.

"Spells – enchantments," said Hagrid, unfolding his newspaper as he spoke. "They say there's dragons guardin' the high-security vaults. And then yeh gotta find yer way – Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die of hunger tryin' ter get out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on summat."

Harry, Amanda, and Charlotte looked at each other curiously, silently contemplating the dangers of thievery while Hagrid read the Daily Prophet.

"Ministry o' Magic messin' things up as usual," Hagrid muttered, turning the page. Charlotte did not know anything much about the Ministry except that her aunt worked there.

"There's a Ministry of Magic?" Harry asked.

"'Course," said Hagrid. "They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, o' course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin' fer advice."

Amanda frowned. "What does the Ministry of Magic do?"

"Well, their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there's still witches and wizards up an' down the country."

Charlotte tilted her head. "Why?"

"Why? Blimey, Charlotte, everyone'd be wantin' magic solutions to their problems. Nah, we're best left alone."

At this moment, the boat bumped gently into the harbor wall. Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and they clambered up the stone steps onto the street.

Passerby stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Charlotte really could not blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at what Charlotte had guessed were perfectly ordinary things, like what Harry muttered were parking meters and saying loudly, "See that, you three? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?"

"Hagrid," said Harry, panting a bit as they ran to keep up, "did you say there are dragons at Gringotts?"

"Well, so they say," said Hagrid. "Crikey, I'd like a dragon."

Harry, Amanda, and Charlotte stared at him in amazement. Harry said, "You'd like one?"

"Wanted one ever since I was a kid – here we go."

They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes' time. Hagrid, who did not understand Muggle money any more than Charlotte did, gave the bills to Harry so he could buy their tickets.

People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent.

"Still got yer letters?" he asked as he counted stitches.

Charlotte took the parchment envelope out of her pocket.

"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything yeh need."

Charlotte unfolded a second piece of paper she had not noticed the night before and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags.

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set of glass crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set of brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS.

"Can we buy all this in London?" Charlotte wondered aloud.

"If yeh know where to go," said Hagrid.

/-/

Amanda had never been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains were too slow.

"I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic," he said as they climbed a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops.

Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Amanda, Harry, and Charlotte had to do was keep close behind him. They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell you a magic wand. This was just an ordinary street full of ordinary people. Could there really be piles of wizard gold buried miles beneath them? Might this not all be some huge joke the Dursleys had cooked up? If Amanda had not known the Dursleys had no sense of humor, she might have thought so; yet somehow, even though everything Hagrid and Charlotte had told them so far was unbelievable, Amanda could not help trusting them.

"This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "The Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid had not pointed it out, Amanda would not have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by did not glance at it. Their eyes slid right from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they could not see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Amanda had the most peculiar feeling that only she, Hagrid, Harry, and Charlotte could see it. Before she could mention this, Hagrid had steered them inside.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping one great hand each on Harry and Amanda's shoulders and making Amanda's knees buckle.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Harry, "is this – can this be –?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry and Amanda Potter… what an honor."

He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and Amanda and seized their hands, tears in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Mr. and Miss Potter, welcome back."

Amanda did not know what to say. Everyone was looking at them. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realized it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming, and even Charlotte had a satisfied smile.

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Amanda and Harry found themselves shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."

"So proud, Miss Potter, I'm just so proud."

"Always wanted to shake your hand – I'm all of a flutter."

"Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle." Dedalus Diggle also shook Charlotte's hand and called her by name. She appeared quite shocked.

"I've seen you before!" said Harry, as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in excitement. "You bowed to us once in a shop."

"He remembers!" cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone. "Did you hear that? He remembers me!"

Amanda shook hands again and again – Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.

A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.

"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry, Amanda, Charlotte, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"P-P-Potter, C-C-Cromwell, P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping each of their hands in turn, "c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you."

Harry smiled at him encouragingly. "What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he would rather not think about it. "N-not that you n-nee it, eh, P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought.

But the others would not let Professor Quirrell keep Harry to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble.

"Must get on – lots ter buy. Come on, you two."

Doris Crockford shook Harry's hand one last time and, Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds.

Hargrid grinned at Harry and Amanda.

"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh – mind you, he's usually tremblin'."

"Is he always that nervous," Harry asked.

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some first-hand experience…. They say he met vampires in the Black Forest and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag – never been the same since. Scared of the students, scare of his own subject – now, where's me umbrella?"

Vampires? Hags? Amanda's head was swimming. Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can.

"Three up… two across…" he muttered. "Right, stand back, Harry."

He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he had touched quivered – it wriggled – in the middle, a small hole appeared – it grew wider and wider – a second later they were facing an archway large enough for even Hagrid, and archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."

He grinned at Harry's and Amanda's amazement. They stepped through the archway. Amanda looked quickly over her shoulder and saw the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall.

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons – All Sizes – Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver – Self-Stirring – Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.

"Yeah, you'll be needin' one each," said Hagrid, "but we gotta get yer money first."

Amanda wished she had about eight more eyes. She turned her head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they're mad…."

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium – Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown and Snowy. Several boys of about Amanda's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Amanda heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand – fastest ever – " There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eel's eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon….

"Gringotts," said Hagrid.

They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold was –

"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Harry. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Amanda noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved on them:

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

"Like I said, yeh'd be made ter try an' rob it," said Hagrid.

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid made for the counter.

"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money out of Mr. Harry Potter and Miss Amanda Potter, and Miss Charlotte Cromwell's safes."

"Do you have their keys, sir?"

"Got them here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Amanda watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals.

"Got 'em," said Hagrid at last, holding up two tiny golden keys.

The goblin looked at them closely.

"These seem to be in order."

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."

The goblin read the letter carefully.

"Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have someone take you down to each of the vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he, Amanda, Harry, and Charlotte followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.

"What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Amanda asked.

"Can't tell yeh that," said Hagrid mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that."

Griphook held the door open for them. Amanda, who had expected more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a little cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in – Hagrid with some difficulty – and were off.

At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Amanda tried to remember, left, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook was not steering.

Amanda's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but she kept them wide open. Once, she thought she saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late – they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

"I never know," Charlotte called to Hagrid over the noise of the car, "What's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?"

"Stalagmite's got an 'm' in it," said Hagrid. "An' don' ask me questions just now, I think I'm gonna be sick."

He did look very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.

Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.

"All yours," smiled Hagrid.

All Amanda's and Harry's – it was incredible. The Dursleys could not have known about this or they would have had it from him faster than blinking. How often had they complained how much Amanda and Harry cost them to keep? And all the time there had been a small fortune belonging to the twins, buried deep under London.

Hagrid and Charlotte helped Amanda and Harry pile some of it into two bags.

"The gold ones are Galleons," Hagrid explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. Right that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe fer yeh." He turned to Griphook. "Charlotte's vault now, please, and can we go more slowly?"

"One speed only," said Griphook.

The same scene repeated itself at Charlotte's vault, with an even greater sized fortune for her to ogle at. They swept some into a bag, and then headed onward to vault seven hundred and thirteen.

They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine, and Harry leaned over the side to try and see what was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled him back by the scruff of his neck.

Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.

"Stand back," said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away.

"If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there," said Griphook.

"How often do you check and see if anyone's inside?" Harry asked.

"About once every ten years," said Griphook with a rather nasty grin.

Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault, Amanda was sure, and she leaned forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous jewels at the very least – but at first she thought it was empty. Then he noticed a grubby little packaged wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor. She, Harry and Charlotte gave each other puzzled looks. Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside his coat. Amanda longed to know what it was, but knew better than to ask.

"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut," said Hagrid.


	8. PhoenixFeather

One wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Amanda did not know where to run first now that she had a bag full of money. Harry and Charlotte seemed to be equally eager.

"Might as well get yer uniforms," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, you two, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts." He did still look a bit sick, so Amanda, Charlotte, and Harry entered Madam Malkin's shop without him, extremely nervous.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, dears?" she said, when Harry started to speak. "Got the lot here – another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Amanda, Harry, and Charlotte on stools next to him, slipping long robes over their heads, and began to pin them to the right lengths.

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"My father's next door buying my books and my mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Amanda tried very hard not to let her distaste for the boy show on her face.

"Have _you _got your own brooms?" the boy went on.

"No," said Harry.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," Harry said, and Amanda and Charlotte shook her heads. What was Quidditch?

"_I_ do – Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," said Charlotte.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Mmm," said Amanda, feeling a bit sick. What if she ended up in Hufflepuff? She would certainly be in Hufflepuff, it would be just her luck.

"I say, look at that man!" said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and pointing at three large ice creams to show he could not come in.

"That's Hagrid," said Harry, pleased to know something the boy did not. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," said the boy, "I've heard of him. He's sort of a servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," said Harry. His expression subtly told of his distaste for the boy.

"Yes, exactly. I've heard he's a sort of _savage_ – lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed.

"I think he's brilliant," said Harry coldly.

"_Do_ you?" said the boy, with a slight sneer. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," said Charlotte shortly. Amanda let her answer for all of them. She did not feel like elaborating with this boy.

"Oh, sorry," said the other, not sounding sorry at all. "But they were _our_ kind, weren't they?"

Amanda gritted her teeth and replied, "They were witches and wizards, if that's what you mean."

"I don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What are your surnames, anyway?"

But before any of them could answer, Madam Malkin said, "That's you three done, my dears," and Harry, Charlotte, and Amanda, who was not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hopped down from their footstools.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," said the drawling boy.

Amanda, Harry, and Charlotte were rather quiet as they ate the ice creams Hagrid had bought them (chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts).

"What's up?" said Hagrid.

"Nothing," Harry lied. They stopped to buy parchment and quills. Harry seemed to cheer up a bit when he found a bottle of ink that changed color as you wrote. When they had left the shop, he said, "Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"

"Blimey, Harry, I keep forgettin' how little yeh know – not knowin' about Quidditch!"

"Don't make me feel worse," said Harry. He told Hagrid about the pale boy in Madam Malkin's.

" – and he said people from Muggle families shouldn't even be allowed in – "

Hagrid cut Harry off.

"Yer not _from_ a Muggle family. If he'd known who yeh _were_ – he's grown up knowin' yer name if his parents are wizardin' folk. You saw what everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw yeh. Anyway, what does he know about it, some o' the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in 'em in a long line o' Muggles – look at yer mum! Look at what she had fer a sister!"

"So how _would_ you explain Quidditch?" said Charlotte.

"It's our sport. Wizard sport. It's like – like soccer in the Muggle world – everyone follows Quidditch – played in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls – sorta hard ter explain the rules."

"And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?" Amanda demanded

"School houses. There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o' duffers but – "

"I bet I'm in Hufflepuff," said Harry gloomily.

"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," said Hagrid darkly. "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one."

"Vol-, sorry – You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?"

"Years an' years ago," said Hagrid.

They bought Amanda, Harry, and Charlotte's school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. Hagrid almost had to drag Harry away from _Curses and Counter-curses (Bewitch your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More)_ by Professor Vindictus Viridian.

"I was trying to find out how to curse his Dudley."

"I'm not sayin' that's not a good idea, but yer not ter use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances," said Hagrid. "An' anyway, yeh couldn' work any of them curses yet, yeh'll need a lot more study before yeh get ter that level."

Hagrid would not let Charlotte buy a solid gold cauldron, either ("It says pewter on yer list"), but they got each got a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and collapsible brass telescopes. Then they visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for three supplies of some basic potion ingredients for Amanda, Harry and Charlotte, Harry examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and miniscule, glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop).

Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked Charlotte's list again.

"Just yer wands left – oh yeah, an' I still haven't gotten yeh birthday presents."

Amanda could feel herself blushing.

"You don't have to – "

"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at – an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'."

Amanda, Charlotte, and Harry had a discussion on the way, deciding to share usage of the owl, but it would be Amanda and Harry's. After all, how many animals could be running or flying or hopping around this castle? And Charlotte would help them care for the owl, as she was good with animals.

Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Amanda now carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. She could not stop stammering her thanks, sounding just like Professor Quirrell.

"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly. "Don' expect you've had a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now – only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."

A wand… this was what Amanda had been really looking forward to, and apparently Harry had as well, because he grinned at her as they strolled down the lane.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. Amanda felt strangely as though she had entered a very strict library; she looked at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of her neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry jumped, Amanda turned, and Charlotte whirled around. Hagrid must have jumped, too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he quickly got off the spindly chair.

An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," said Charlotte awkwardly.

"Ah, yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Charlotte Cromwell." It wasn't a question. "And of course, Harry and Amanda Potter. You have your mothers' eyes. Except you, Miss Potter, you have your fathers. Actually, Miss Cromwell, you look very much like your mother. It seems like yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Eleven inches, stiff, birch and dragon-heartstring. Very powerful wand.

"Mr. Potter, your mother's on the other hand was ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Amanda wished the man would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it – it's really the wand that chooses the wizard of course."

Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose.

"And that's where…"

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands… well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do…."

He shook his head and then spotted Hagrid.

"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again…. Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid.

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.

"Er – yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. "I've still got the pieces, though," he added brightly.

"But you don't _use_ them?" said Mr. Ollivander sharply.

"Oh, no, sir," said Hagrid quickly. Charlotte noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. "Well, now – Mr. Potter. Let me see. "He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"Er – well, I'm right-handed and Amanda is as well," said Harry.

"And you, Miss Cromwell?"

"Left," she replied.

"Very good, hold out your arms, all of you. That's it." He measured Amanda, Harry, and Charlotte from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and round their heads. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

Amanda suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was now measuring between her nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right, then, Mr. Potter, try this one. Beech-wood and dragon heartstring. Nin inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."

Harry took the wand and waved it around, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try – "

Harry tried – but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no – here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, spring. Go on, go on, try it out."

Harry tried. And tried. Amanda had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere – I wonder, now – yes, why not – unusual combination – holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry took the wand. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well… how curious… how very curious…"

He put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, then began to search for a wand for Amanda to try, still muttering, "Curious… curious…"

"Sorry," said Harry, "but _what's_ curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather – just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother – why, its brother gave you that scar."

Charlotte swallowed.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember…. I think we must expect great things from you Mr. Potter…. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things – terrible, yes, but great."

Charlotte shivered.

She and Amanda had their wands the very first ones he had them try: ten and a half inches, hazel-wood, unicorn hair for Charlotte and ten inches, yew, and unicorn hair for Amanda. Amanda was not sure she liked Ollivander too much. They paid seven gold Galleons for each wand, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop.

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Amanda, Harry, Charlotte and Hagrid made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. Amanda did not speak at all as they walked down the road; he did not even notice how much people were gawking at them on the Underground, laden as they were with all their funny-shaped packages, with the snowy owl asleep in its cage on Harry's lap. Up another escalator, out into Paddington station; Amanda only realized where they were when Hagrid tapped her on the shoulder.

"Got time fer a bite to eat before yer trains leave," he said.

He bought Amanda, Harry, and Charlotte hamburgers (she looked very interested in it, and Amanda realized she had probably never had one) and they sat down on plastic seats to eat them. Amanda kept looking around. Everything looked so strange, somehow.

"You all right, Harry? Yer very quiet," said Hagrid.

"Everyone thinks I'm special," he said. "All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander… but I don't know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? I'm famous and I can't even remember what I'm famous for. I don't know what happened when Vol-, sorry – I mean, the night our parents died."

Hagrid leaned across the table. Behind the wild beard and eyebrows he wore a very kind smile.

"Don' you worry, Harry. You'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. Just be yerself. I know it's hard. Yeh've been singled out, an' that's always hard. But yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts – I did – still do, 'smatter of fact."

Hagrid helped Amanda, Harry, and Charlotte onto their trains that would take them back to their houses, then handed them each an envelope.

"Yer tickets fer Hogwarts," he said. "First o' September – King's Cross – it's all on yer tickets. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where to find me…. See yeh soon!"

The trains pulled out of the station. Amanda wanted to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight; she rose in her seat and pressed her nose against the window, but she blinked and Hagrid had gone.


	9. New Beginnings

Amanda's and Harry's last month with the Dursleys was not fun. True, Dudley was now so scared of them he would not stay in the same room, while Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon did not shut them in their cupboard, force them to do anything, or shout at them – in fact, they did not speak to the, at all. Half terrified, half furious, they acted as though any chair with either Potter in it were empty. Although this was an improvement in many ways, it did become a bit depressing after a while.

Amanda and Harry kept to their room, with their new owl for company. They had decided to call her Hedwig, a name Amanda had found in _A History of Magic_. Their school books were very interesting. They lay on their bed reading late into the night, Hedwig swooping in and out of the open window as she pleased. It was lucky Aunt Petunia did not come in to vacuum anymore, because along with the occasional note from Charlotte, Hedwig kept bringing back dead mice. When a note came, Amanda and Harry responded. They did not say much to each other, just how excited they were for September to arrive. Every night before they went to sleep, Harry ticked off another day on the piece of paper he had pinned to the wall, counting down to the day they would leave.

On the last day of August, after they got a thank you note for the birthday greetings they had sent to Charlotte about a week earlier, Harry thought they had better speak to their aunt and uncle about getting to King's Cross station the next day, so they went down to the living room where the Dursleys were watching a quiz show on television. Amanda cleared her throat to let them know they were there, and Dudley screamed and ran from the room.

"Er – Uncle Vernon?"

Uncle Vernon grunted to show he was listening.

"Er – we need to be at King's Cross tomorrow to – to go to Hogwarts," Harry said.

Uncle Vernon grunted again.

"Would it be all right if you gave us a lift?"

Grunt. Harry turned to Amanda as if wondering what it meant. She shrugged, assuming it must be in the affirmative. Apparently, Harry agreed.

"Thank you," he said.

They were about to go back upstairs when Uncle Vernon actually spoke.

"Funny way to get to a wizards' school, the train. Magic carpets all got punctures, have they?"

Amanda and Harry did not say anything.

"Where is this school, anyway?"

"I don't know," said Amanda, realizing this for the first time. She pulled the ticket Hagrid had given him out of his pocket.

"We just take the train from platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o'clock," she read.

His aunt and uncle stared.

"Platform what?"

"Nine and three-quarters," Harry repeated.

"Don't talk rubbish," said Uncle Vernon. "There is no platform nine and three-quarters."

"It's on our tickets."

"Barking," said Uncle Vernon, "howling mad, the lot of them. You'll see. You just wait. All right, we'll take you to King's Cross. We're going up to London tomorrow anyway, or I wouldn't bother."

"Why are you going to London?" Harry asked, trying to keep things friendly.

"Taking Dudley to the hospital," growled Uncle Vernon. "Got to have that ruddy tail removed before he goes to Smeltings."

/-/

Charlotte dressed the morning of the first of September, eager to get to London. Her aunt had a Muggle car for them to take to King's Cross, and she was just cleaning it up a bit when Charlotte woke up. She looked out the window, saw the car, and all the excitement came flooding back.

Her trunk had been packed for nearly a week, though she would occasionally have to unpack it to get to something, but she'd pack it right up again when she was done. Drizza made her a hearty breakfast of sausage, eggs and toast. The eggs were perfect, exactly how Charlotte liked them. She dressed quickly, nearly forgetting her socks, and then hurried down to the car.

"Do you have your ticket?" her aunt asked, almost kindly.

Charlotte nodded, taking it out of her pocket and holding for her aunt to see.

"Very well. If Drizza's done loading your trunk, I suppose we'll get going."

Charlotte had told her aunt and Drizza all about her adventure with Hagrid and Harry and Amanda Potter. Drizza seemed pleased and interested, but Aunt Anne-Claire seemed bothered and perturbed at being so. She did, however, seem to understand that Charlotte wanted to get to King's Cross plenty early to find Harry and Amanda so that they might not be alone on the train. After all, it would be full of strangers.

Aunt Anne-Claire would drop Charlotte off outside of King's Cross. Once inside, she would be on her own.

/-/

Amanda and Harry woke at five o'clock the next morning and were too excited and nervous to go back to sleep. They got up and pulled on their jeans because they did not want to walk into the station in his wizard's robes – they'd change on the train. She checked her Hogwarts list yet again to make sure she had packed everything they needed, saw that Hedwig was shut safely in her cage and then they paced the room, waiting for the Dursleys to get up. Two hours later, Harry's and Amanda's huge, heavy trunks had been loaded into the Dursleys' car, Aunt Petunia had talked Dudley into sitting next to Harry, who sat in the middle, and they had set off.

They reached King's Cross at half past ten. Uncle Vernon dumped the trunks onto a cart and wheeled it into the station for them. Amanda thought this was strangely kind until Uncle Vernon stopped dead, facing the platforms with a nasty grin on his face.

"Well, there you are, you two. Platform nine – platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, do they?"

He was quite right, of course. There was a big plastic number nine over one platform and a big plastic number ten over the one next to it, and in the middle, nothing at all.

"Have a good term," said Uncle Vernon with an even nastier smile. He left without another word. Amanda turned and saw the Dursleys drive away. All three of them were laughing. Amanda's mouth went rather dry. What on earth were they going to do? They were starting to attract a lot of funny looks, because of Hedwig. She'd have to ask someone.

Just then, she spotted Charlotte, over by platform nine, looking equally worried. She saw them, waved, and rolled her cart over to meet them. Apparently, her aunt had neglected to mention how to find the platform.

Harry stopped a passing guard, but did not dare mention platform nine and three-quarters. The guard had never heard of Hogwarts and when they could not even tell him what part of the country it was in, he started to get annoyed, as thought they were being stupid on purpose. Getting desperate, Amanda asked for the train that left at eleven o'clock, but the guard said there was not one. In the end, the guard strode away, muttering about time wasters. Amanda was now trying not to panic. According to the large clock over the arrivals board, they had ten minutes left to get on the train to Hogwarts and they had no idea how to do it; they were stranded in the middle of a station with three trunks they could hardly lift between them, three pockets full of wizard money, and a large owl.

Hagrid must have forgotten to tell them something you had to do, like tapping the third brick on the left to get into Diagon Alley. Amanda wondered if she should get out her wand and start tapping the ticket inspector's stand between platforms nine and ten.

At that moment, a group of people passed just behind him and he caught a few words of what they were saying.

" – packed with Muggles, of course – "

Amanda, Harry, and Charlotte swung round. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like Amanda's in front of him – and they had an _owl_.

Heart hammering, Amanda pushed her cart after them and Charlotte and Harry followed. They stopped and so did she, just near enough to hear what they were saying.

"Now, what's the platform number?" said the boys' mother.

"Nine and three-quarters!" piped a small girl, also red-headed, who was holding her hand, "Mom, can't I go…"

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."

What looked like the oldest boy marched toward platforms nine and ten. Amanda, Harry, and Charlotte watched, careful not to blink in case they missed it – but just as the boy reached the dividing barriers between the two platforms, a large crowd of tourists came swarming in front of him and by the time the last backpack had cleared away, the boy had vanished.

"Fred, you next," the plump woman said.

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," said the boy. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself a mother? Can't you _tell_ I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking, I am Fred," said the boy, and off he went. His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later, he had gone – but how had he done it?

Now the third brother was walking briskly toward the barrier – he was almost there – and then, quite suddenly, he was not anywhere.

"Excuse me," Harry said to the plump woman.

"Hello, dear," she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new too."

She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose.

"Yes," said Amanda. "The thing is – the thing is, we don't know how to – "

"How to get onto the platform?" she said kindly, and Amanda, Harry, and Charlotte nodded.

"Not to worry," she said. "All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now as a pair before Ron."

"Er – okay," said Charlotte.

They pushed their trolleys around and stared at the barrier. It looked very solid.

They gave each other a look, then started to walk toward it. People jostled them on their way to platforms nine and ten. They began to walk more quickly. They were going to smash right into that barrier and then they would be in trouble – leaning forward on his cart, Harry broke into a heavy run and Amanda and Charlotte did the same – the barrier was coming nearer and nearer – they would not be able to stop – the carts were out of control – they were a foot away – Amanda closed her eyes ready for the crash –

It did not come… they kept on running… she opened her eyes. A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven o'clock. Amanda looked behind her and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words _Platform Nine and Three-Quarters_ on it. They had done it.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and scraping of heavy trunks.

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Amanda, Harry, and Charlotte pushed their carts off down the platform in search of empty seats. They passed a round-faced boy who was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad again."

"Oh, _Neville_," the old woman sighed.

A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd.

"Give us a look, Lee, go on."

The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.

Amanda, Harry, and Charlotte pressed on through the crowd until they found an empty compartment near the end of the train. Amanda put Hedwig inside first and then they started to shove and heave their trunks toward the train door. They tried to lift them up the steps but could hardly raise one end, and twice Harry dropped his painfully on his foot.

"Want a hand?" It was one of the red-haired twins they'd followed through the barrier.

"Yes, please," Harry panted.

"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!"

With the twins' help, Amanda, Harry, and Charlotte's trunks were at last tucked away in the compartment.

"Thanks," said Charlotte to the one called George, shaking his hand as Amanda shook George's and Harry pushed the sweaty hair out of his eyes.

"What's that?" said one of the twins suddenly, pointing at Harry's lightening scar.

"Blimey," said the other twin. "Are you – ?"

"He _is_," said the first twin. "Aren't you?" he added to Harry.

"What?" said Harry.

"_Harry Potter_," chorused the twins.

"Oh, him," said Harry. "I mean, yes, I am."

The two boys gawked at him, and Harry turned red. Then, to his obvious relief, a voice came floating through the train's open door.

"Fred? George? Are you there?"

"Coming, Mom."

With a last look at Harry, the twins hopped off the train.

Amanda, Harry, and Charlotte sat down at the window seats where, half hidden, they could watch the red-haired family on the platform and hear what they were saying. Their mother had just taken out her handkerchief.

"Ron, you've got something on your nose."

"The youngest boy tried to jerk out of the way, but she grabbed him and began rubbing the end of his nose.

"_Mom_ – geroff." He wriggled free.

"Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" said one of the twins.

"Shut up," said Ron.

"Where's Percy?" said their mother.

"He's coming now."

The oldest boy came striding into sight. He had already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes, and Harry noticed a silver badge on his chest with the letter _P_ on it.

"Can't stay long, Mother," he said. "I'm up front, the prefects have to two compartments to themselves – "

"Oh, are you a _prefect_, Percy?" said one of the twins, with an air of great surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea."

"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it," said the other twin. "Once – "

"Or twice – "

"A minute – "

"All summer – "

"Oh, shut up," said Percy the Prefect.

"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" said one of the twins.

"Because he's a _prefect_," said their mother fondly. "All right, dear, well, have a good term – send me an owl when you get there."

She kissed Percy on the cheek and he left. Then she turned to the twins.

"Now, you two – this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've – you've blown up a toilet or – "

"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet."

"Great idea though, thanks, Mom."

"It's _not funny_. And look after Ron."

"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us."

"Shut up," said Ron again. He was almost as tall as the twins already and his nose was still pink where his mother had rubbed it.

"Hey, Mom, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?"

Harry leaned back quickly so they could not see him looking.

"You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station? Know who he is?"

"Who?"

"_Harry Potter_!"

Harry heard the little girl's voice.

"Oh, Mom, can I go on the train and see him, Mom, oh please…."

"You've already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn't something you goggle at in a zoo. Is he really Fred? How do you know?"

"Asked him. Saw his scar. It's really there –like lightening."

"Poor _dear_ – and the girls must have been his twin, and the Cromwell girl. She looked so like her grandmother. No wonder they were alone, I wondered. He was ever so polite when he asked how to get onto the platform."

"Never mind that, do you think they remember what You-Know-Who looks like?"

Their mother suddenly became very stern.

"I forbid you to ask them, Fred. No, don't you dare. As though they need reminding of that on their first day at school."

"All right, keep your hair on."

A whistle sounded.

"Hurry up!" their mother said, and the three boys clambered onto the train. They leaned out of the window for her to kiss them good-bye and their younger sister began to cry.

"Don't, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls."

"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat."

"_George_!"

"Only joking, Mom."

The train began to move. Amanda saw the boys' mother waving and their sister, half laughing, half crying, running to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed and then she fell back and waved.

Amanda watched the girl and her mother disappear as the train rounded the corner. Houses flashed past the window. Amanda felt a great leap of excitement. She did not know what she was going to – but it had to be better than what she was leaving behind.

The door of the compartment slid open and the youngest red-headed boy came in.

"Anyone sitting here?" he asked, pointing at the seat next to Charlotte. "Everywhere else is full."

Amanda, Harry, and Charlotte shook their heads and the boy sat down. He glanced at Harry and then looked quickly out of the window, pretending he had not looked. Amanda saw he still had a black mark on his nose.

"Hey, Ron."

The twins were back.

"Listen, we're going down to the middle of the train – Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," mumbled Ron.

"Harry," said the other twin, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then."

Charlotte gave her and Amanda's names, and then the four of them said, "Bye." The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted out.

Harry nodded.

"What, did you think it was a joke?" Amanda said with a laugh. "Go ahead and show him your scar, Harry."

Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. Ron stared.

"Yeah, that's where the curse hit," Charlotte said, a bit bored.

"Yes," said Harry, "but I can't remember it."

"Nothing?" asked Ron.

"Well – I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."

"Not particularly exciting, I know," said Amanda. Ron sat and stared at Harry and Amanda a few moments, then, as though he had suddenly realized what he was doing, he looked quickly out of the window again.

"Are all your family wizards?" asked Charlotte.

"Er – yes, I think so," said Ron. "I think Mom's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."

"So you must know leads of magic already," said Harry.

The Weasleys were clearly one of those old wizarding families the pale boy in Diagon Alley had talked about.

"Did you really grow up with Muggles? What are they like?" said Ron.

"Horrible – well, not all of them," Amanda said with a little laugh. "Our aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. Wish I'd had three wizard brothers."

"Me too," Charlotte said with a sigh.

"Five," said Ron. For some reason, he was looking gloomy. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left – Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."

Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat gray rat, which was asleep.

"His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff- I mean, I got Scabbers instead."

Ron's ears went pink. He seemed to think he had said too much, because he went back to staring out of the window.

Amanda did not think there was anything wrong with not being able to afford an owl. After all, she had never had any money in her life until a month ago, and Harry told Ron so, all about having to wear Dudley's old clothes and never getting proper birthday presents. This seemed to cheer Ron up.

"… and until Hagrid told us, we didn't know anything about being a magical or about our parents or Voldemort – "

Ron gasped.

"What?" said Amanda.

"You said You-Know-Who's name!" said Charlotte, sounding bored. "It's really not done. "

"I'm not trying to be brave or anything, saying the name," said Harry, "I just never knew you shouldn't. See what I mean? I've got loads to learn…. I bet," he added, voicing for the first time something that had been worrying him a lot lately, "I bet I'm the worst in the class."

"You won't be," said Ron. "There's loads of people who come from Muggle families and they learn quick enough."

While they had been talking, the train had carried them out of London. Now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. They were quiet for a time, watching the fields and lanes flick past.

Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the car, dears?"

Amanda and Harry, who had not had any breakfast, leapt to their feet, but Ron's ears went pink again and he muttered that he had brought sandwiches. Amanda, Harry, and Charlotte went out into the corridor.

She had never had money for candy with the Dursleys, and now that she had pockets rattling with gold and silver she was ready to buy as many Mars Bars as she could carry – but the woman did not have Mars Bars. What she did have were Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and a number of other strange things Amanda had never seen in her life. Charlotte knew exactly what she wanted and bought some Chocolate Frogs and a few Cauldron Cakes. Not wanting to miss anything, Amanda and Harry got some of everything and paid the woman eleven silver Sickles and seven bronze Knuts.

Ron stared as Amanda, Harry, and Charlotte brought it all back into the compartment and tipped it onto an empty seat.

"Hungry, are you?"

"Starving," said Amanda, taking a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty.

Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and Charlotte commented, "Is that corned beef?" Ron nodded with a dissatisfied look on his face.

"Swap you for one of these," said Harry, holding up a pasty. "Go on – "

"You don't want this, it's all dry," said Ron. "She hasn't got much time," he added quickly, "you know, with the five of us."

"Go on, have a pasty," said Harry. It was a nice feeling, sitting there with Harry, Ron, and Charlotte, eating their way through all the pasties, cakes, and candies (the sandwiches lay forgotten).

"What are these?" Amanda asked, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs. "They're not _really_ frogs, are they?" She was starting to feel that nothing would surprise her.

"No," said Charlotte. "But see what the card is. I'm missing Agrippa."

Amanda frowned, confused.

"Oh, of course, you wouldn't know – Chocolate Frogs have cards inside them, you know, to collect – famous witches and wizards," Ron explained. "I've got about five hundred, but I haven't got Agrippa or Ptolemy."

Amanda unwrapped her Chocolate Frog and picked up the card. It showed a man's face. He wore half-moon glasses, had a long, crooked nose, and flowing silver hair, beard, and mustache. Underneath the picture was the name Albus Dumbledore.

"So _this_ is Dumbledore!" said Harry, looking over her shoulder.

"Yes, you've heard of Dumbledore, have you?" said Ron. "Can I have a frog? I might get Agrippa – thanks – "

Amanda turned over the card and read:

_ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

_CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS_

_Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling._

Amanda turned the card back over and saw, to her astonishment, that Dumbledore's face had disappeared.

"He's gone!"

"Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day," said Charlotte. "He'll be back. No, Ron, I've got Morgana again and I've got about six of her… do you want it, Amanda? You can start collecting."

Ron's eyes strayed to the pile of Chocolate Frogs waiting to be unwrapped.

"Help yourself," said Harry. "But in, you know, the Muggle world, people just stay put in photos."

"Do they? What, they don't move at all?" Ron sounded amazed. "_Weird_!"

Amanda stared as Dumbledore sidled back into the picture on her card and gave her a small smile. Ron and Charlotte were more interested in eating the frogs than looking at the Famous Witches and Wizards cards, but Amanda and Harry could not keep their eyes off them. Soon they had not only Dumbledore and Morgana, but Hengist of Woodcroft, Alberic Grunnion, Circe, Paracelsus, and Merlin. Harry finally tore his eyes away from the druidess Cliodna, who was scratching her nose, to open a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

"You want to be careful with those," Ron warned Harry. "When they say every flavor, they _mean_ every flavor – you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you get spinach and liver and tripe. Fred reckons he had a booger-flavored one once."

Charlotte picked up a green bean, looked at it carefully, and bit into a corner.

"Bleaaargh – see? Sprouts."

They had a good time eating the Every Flavor Beans. Amanda got toast, coconut, baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, sardine, and was even brave enough to nibble the end off a funny gray one Harry, Ron, and Charlotte would not touch, which turned out to be pepper.

The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.

There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the round-faced boy Harry had passed on platform nine and three-quarters came in. He looked tearful.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," said Amanda.

"Yes," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him…"

He left.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could."

He nodded and said, "Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk."

The rat was still snoozing on Ron's lap.

"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ron in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look…"

He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end. Charlotte gave him a sad look.

"The unicorn hair's nearly poking out."

He nodded in shamed reply and had just raised his wand when the compartment door slid open again. The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.

"Yes?" Amanda asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Ron, but the girl was not listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."

She sat down. Ron and Charlotte looked taken aback. Amanda answered for him and gave him an encouraging nod.

"All right, Ron."

"Yeah, no worries," Charlotte said with an encouraging smile.

He cleared his throat. "_Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow_."

He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast asleep.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said the girl. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was every so please, of course, I mean it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard – I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough – I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

She said all this very fast.

Amanda looked at Ron and Charlotte, pleased to see by their stunned faces that they had not learned all of the course books by heart either.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.

"Amanda Potter."

"Charlotte Cromwell."

"Harry Potter," said Harry.

"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course – I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_."

"I am?" said Harry, looking dazed.

"Wow," Amanda said, blinking.

Charlotte had a go at mimicking the girl. "Goodness, didn't you know?" she said. "Do any of you know what house you'll be in? I hope I'll be in Gryffindor, it seems by far the best; I heard Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad…. Anyway, you'd better go and look for Neville's toad." She turned to Amanda, Ron, and Harry with a snap. "You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

The girl nodded approvingly and she left, taking the toadless boy with her. They all laughed uncomfortably.

"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it," said Ron. He threw his wand back into his trunk. "Stupid spell – George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud."

"What house are your brothers in?" asked Harry.

"Gryffindor," said Ron. Gloom seemed to be settling on him again. "Mom and Dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw _would_ be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."

"That's the house You-Know-Who was in," Amanda said.

"Yeah," said Charlotte. Ron flopped back into his seat, looking depressed.

"You know, I think the ends of Scabbers' whiskers are a bit lighter," said Harry, trying to take Ron's mind off houses. "So what do your family members do now that they've left, anyway?"

Charlotte said, "Well, my aunt works in the Ministry, but I've no idea what she does."

"Charlie's in Romania studying dragons, and Bill's in Africa doing something for Gringotts," said Ron. "Did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the _Daily Prophet_, but I don't suppose you get that with Muggles – someone tried to rob a high security vault."

Harry stared.

"Really? What happened to them?"

Charlotte shook her head and replied, "Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. My aunt says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it."

"That's horrible," Amanda said, and the others nodded.

Amanda turned it over in her mind. She was starting to get a prickle of fear every time You-Know-Who was mentioned. She supposed this was all part of entering the magical world, but it had been a lot more comfortable saying "Voldemort" without worrying.

"What's your Quidditch team?" Ron asked.

"Er – I don't know any," Harry confessed.

"What about you, Charlotte?" Ron asked, turning to her.

Charlotte smiled. "Holyhead Harpies, but my family supports Puddlemere United."

"I wish I understood what Quidditch was all about," Amanda said, more to herself than anything.

"What!" Ron looked dumbfounded. "Oh, you wait, Amanda, it's the best game in the world – " And he was off, explaining all about the four balls and the positions of the seven players, describing famous games he had been to with his brothers and the broomstick he would like to get if he had the money. He was just taking Amanda, Harry, and Charlotte through the finer points of the game when the compartment door slid open yet again, but it was not Neville the toadless boy, or Hermione Granger this time.

Three boys entered, and Amanda, Harry, and Charlotte recognized the middle one at once: it was the pale boy from Madam Malkin's robe shop. He was looking at Harry and Amanda with a lot more interest than he had shown back in Diagon Alley.

"Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry and Amanda Potter are in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes," said Harry. He was looking at the other boys. Both of them were thickset and looked extremely mean. Standing on either side of the pale boy, they looked like bodyguards.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Harry was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

He turned back to Amanda and Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry did not take it.

"I think we can tell who the wrong sort are for ourselves, thanks," Amanda said coolly.

Draco Malfoy did not go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."

Amanda, Harry, Ron and Charlotte all stood up.

"Say that again," Charlotte said, her face as red as Ron's hair.

"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Malfoy sneered.

"Unless you get out now," said Harry, more bravely than Amanda felt, because Crabbe and Goyle were a lot bigger than Harry or Ron.

"But we don't feel like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some."

Goyle reached toward the Chocolate Frogs next to Ron – Ron leapt forward but before he had so much as touched Goyle, Goyle let out a horrible yell.

Scabbers the rat was hanging off his finger, sharp little teeth sunk deep into Goyle's knuckle – Crabbe and Malfoy backed away as Goyle swung Scabbers round and round, howling, and when Scabbers flew off and hit the window, all three of them disappeared at once. Perhaps they thought there were more rats lurking among the sweets, or perhaps they had heard footsteps, because a second later, Hermione Granger had come in.

"What _has_ been going on?" she said, looking at the sweets all over the floor and Ron picking up Scabbers by his tail.

"I think he's been knocked out," Ron said to Harry and Charlotte. He looked closer at Scabbers. "No – I don't believe it – he's gone back to sleep."

And so he had.

"Well that was exciting," Amanda sighed, sitting back on the seat.

"Too exciting," Charlotte agreed.

"You've met Malfoy before?" Ron asked.

Charlotte explained about their meeting in Diagon Alley.

"I've heard of his family," said Ron darkly. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side." He turned to Hermione. "Can we help you with something?"

"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"

"Scabbers has been fighting, not us," said Amanda honestly. "I don't think the boys want you in here while they change, either."

"Yeah, I expect we'll have to find somewhere to change," Charlotte said lazily, though not getting up to do anything about it.

"All right – I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors," said Hermione in a sniffy voice. "And you've got dirt on your nose by the way, did you know?" she added to Ron.

Ron glared at her as she left. Amanda peered out of the window. It was getting dark. He could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. The train did seem to be slowing down.

Charlotte and Amanda found somewhere down the train to change quickly and return back to the compartment in their robes, finding Ron and Harry already in their robes.

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minute's time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Amanda's stomach lurched with nerves and Ron, she saw, looked pale under his freckles. Only Charlotte looked remotely calm. They crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets and joined the crowd thronging the corridor.

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Harry shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbin over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a familiar voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Amanda, Harry, Charlotte?"

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.

"C'mon, follow me – any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Amanda thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Amanda, Harry, Ron and Charlotte managed to get a boat to themselves.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then – FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boat reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.


	10. The Sorting Hat

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Charlotte was instantly reminded of her aunt and decided she'd rather not get in trouble with this woman.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of the Dursleys' house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Charlotte could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right – the rest of the school must already be here – but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would have usually done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose. Harry nervously tried to flatten his hair.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber. Charlotte nibbled down on her lip.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" Harry asked Ron.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

Charlotte's heart gave a horrible jolt. A test? In front of the whole school? But she did not know any magic yet – what on earth would she have to do? The only thing she would be able to pass was a history test... Perhaps she would be a Ravenclaw like her grandmother? She had not expected something like this the moment they arrived. She looked around anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified, too. No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she had learned and wondering which one she would need. Charlotte tried hard to listen to her, hoping to pick up an incantation she could use. She had never been more nervous, never, not even when she had to explain to her aunt where she'd found the dusty motorcycle jacket she'd been using as a blanket at night because it smelled nice and her aunt had a fit. She kept her eyes fixed on the door. Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead her to her doom.

Then something happened that made her jump about a foot in the air – several people behind her screamed.

"What the – ?"

She gasped. So did the people around her. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we out got give him a second chance – "

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost – I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights suddenly noticed the first years.

Nobody answered.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony is about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Feeling oddly as though her legs had turned to lead, Charlotte got into line behind a boy with sandy hair, with Ron behind her and Amanda and Harry behind Ron, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Charlotte had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Charlotte looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard Hermione whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in _Hogwarts, A History_."

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall did not simply open on to the heavens.

Charlotte quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Aunt Anne-Claire would not have let it in the house.

_Maybe they had to try and get a rabbit out of it_, Charlotte thought wildly, that seemed the sort of thing – noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, she stared at it, too. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth – and the hat began to sing:

"_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folks use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!_"

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Amanda whispered loudly. "I thought you said Fred said something about a troll."

Charlotte smiled weakly. Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but she did wish they could have tried it on without everyone watching. The hat seemed to be asking rather a lot; Charlotte did not feel brave or quick-witted or any of it at the moment. If only the hat had mentioned a house for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for her.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause –

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The second table from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravcenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Charlotte could see Ron's twin brothers cat-calling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. Perhaps it was Charlotte's imagination, after all he had heard about Slytherin, but he thought they looked like an unpleasant lot.

He was starting to feel definitely sick now. He remembered being picked for teams during gym at his old school. He had always been last to be chosen, not because he was no good, but because no one wanted Dudley to think they liked him.

"Cromwell, Charlotte!"

Charlotte heard a few chairs scrape behind him as she made her way nervously to the stool to put the hat on. She looked around. Some of the teachers were standing to get a better look. Perhaps they had known her mother, or her grandfather. She sat down with a deep breath and sighed.

"Ah," the hat said in her ears. "Charlotte Black."

That wasn't her name, Charlotte thought frantically. What if they'd gotten the wrong Charlotte? What if she wasn't supposed to be at Hogwarts at all?

"Oh, no," the hat's voice whispered, amused. "That is your name. Your mother had Gryffindor and Ravenclaw heritage, but your father, his family was Slytherin back as far as blood can be traced. You'd make a good Slytherin, my dear, but you take so strongly after your father, such a black sheep. I think you belong in -

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Charlotte felt intensely relieved as she walked to the Gryffindor table. The Weasley twins high-fived her as she went to sit down.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes, Charlotte noticed, the hat shouted the house at once but at others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy next to Ron in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. Ron groaned.

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "Slytherin!"

Malfoy when to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

There were not many people left now.

"Moon"…, "Nott"…, "Parkinson"…, then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil"…, then "Perks, Sally-Anne"…, and then, at last –

"Potter, Amanda!"

The red-haired beauty went forward and the hall was silent, almost holding its breath as she sat down on the stool, the hat sitting on her head for what felt almost like an eternity before it yelled, "GRYFFINDOR!" and she came with a smile on her face to sit beside Charlotte.

"Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"_Potter_, did she say?"

"_The_ Harry Potter?"

The hat took its sweet time before finally announcing, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table. He seemed to hardly noticed that he was getting the loudest cheer yet. Percy the Prefect got up and shook his hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Harry sat next to Charlotte, who beamed at him, and opposite the ghost in the ruff they had seen earlier. The ghost patted his arm.

Charlotte could see the High Table properly now, she realized, as she looked around instead of listening to all the names that would come up between Harry and Ron. At the end nearest her sat Hagrid, who caught her eye and gave her the thumbs up. Charlotte grinned back. And there, in the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Charlotte spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban.

And now there were only four people left to be Sorted.

"Thomas, Dean," a Black boy even taller than Ron, joined them at the Gryffindor Table. "Turpin Lisa," because a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. He was pale green by now. Charlotte crossed her fingers under the table and a second later the hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry, Amanda, and Charlotte clapped loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed into the chair next to Harry.

"Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy Weasley pompously across Harry as "Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

Charlotte looked down at her empty gold plate. She had only just realized how hungry she was. The pumpkin pasties seemed ages ago.

Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Charlotte did not know whether to laugh or not.

"Is he – a bit mad?" Amanda asked Percy uncertainly.

"Mad?" said Percy airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But hi is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Charlotte?"

Charlotte's mouth fell open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops, lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

Charlotte piled his plate with a bit of everything except the peppermints and began to eat. It was all delicious.

"That does look good," said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Harry cut up his steak.

"Can't you – ?" Harry began.

"I haven't eaten for nearly four hundred years," said the host. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

"I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly. "My brothers told me about you – you're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"I would _prefer_ you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy – " the ghost began stiffly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted.

"_Nearly_ Headless? How can you be _nearly_ headless?"

Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat was not going at all the way he wanted.

"Like this," he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking pleased at the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, "So – new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the house championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable. He's the Slytherin ghost."

Charlotte looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was right next to Malfoy who, Charlotte was pleased to see, did not look too pleased with the seating arrangements.

"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus with great interest.

"I've never asked," said Nearly Headless Nick delicately.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding…

As Harry helped himself to a treacle tart, the talk turned to their families.

"I'm half-and-half," said Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."

They others laughed.

"What about you, Neville?" said Ron.

"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but the family thought I was all-Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch my off my guard and force some magic out of me – he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned – but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced – all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here – they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad."

On Harry's other side, Percy Weasley and Hermione were talking about lessons ("I do hope they start right away, there's so much to learn, I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else, of course, it's supposed to be very difficult – "; "You'll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing – ").

Harry, looked up at the High Table, and Charlotte followed his gaze. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.

"Ouch!" Harry clapped a hand to his head.

"What is it?" asked Percy.

"N-nothing," said Charlotte carefully, watching Harry's face. He nodded.

"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" Amanda asked Percy.

"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to – everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."

Charlotte watched Snape for a while, but Snape did not look at them again.

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem – just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Charlotte laughed, but she was one of the few who did.

"He's not serious?" Harry muttered to Percy.

"Must be," said Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere – the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."

"And now, before we got to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

And the school bellowed:

"_Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_Teach us something, please,_

_Weather we be old and bald_

_Or young with scabby knees,_

_Our heads could do with filling_

_With some interesting stuff,_

_For now they're bare and full of air,_

_Dead flies and bits of fluff,_

_So teach us things worth knowing,_

_Bring back what we've forgot,_

_Just do your best, we'll do the rest,_

_And learn until our brains all rot._"

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Charlotte's legs were like lead again, but only because she was so tired and so full of food. She was too sleepy even to be surprised that twice Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and tapestries. They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and Charlotte was just wondering how much farther they had to go when they came to a sudden halt.

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and as Percy took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him.

"Peeves," Percy whispered to the first years. "A poltergeist." He raised his voice. "Peeves – show yourself."

A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered.

"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.

"Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"

He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.

"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" barked Percy.

Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Neville's head. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed.

"You want to watch out for Peeves," said Percy, as they set off again. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are."

At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she said.

"Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it – Neville needed a leg up – and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase – they were obviously in one of the towers – they found their beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep red velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed.

"Great food, isn't it?" Amanda muttered to Charlotte through the hangings.

Charlotte was going to ask Amanda if she had any of the treacle tart, but she fell asleep almost at once.

By the time she woke in the morning, she had forgotten all about the strange way the Sorting Hat had addressed her.


	11. Classes

"There, look."

"Where?"

"Next to the tall kid with the red hair."

"Wearing the glasses?"

"Did you see his face?"

"Did you see his scar?"

Whispers followed Harry and Amanda from the moment they left the common room the next day. People lined up to get a look at him, or doubled back to pass them in the corridors again, staring. Amanda wished they would not, because she and Harry were trying to concentrate on finding their way to classes.

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that would not open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that were not really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it was all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Amanda was sure the coats of armor could walk.

The ghosts did not help, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. Nearly Headless Nick was always happy to point new Gryffindors in the right direction, but Peeves the Poltergeist was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you met him when you were late for class. He would drop wastepaper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab your nose, and screech, "GOT YOUR CONK!"

Even worse than Peeves, if that was possible, was the caretaker, Argus Filch. Amanda, Harry, Ron, and Charlotte managed to get on the wrong side of him their very first morning. Filch found them trying to force their way through a door that unluckily turned out to be the entrance to the out-of-bounds corridor on the third floor. He would not believe they were lost, was sure they were trying to break into it on purpose, and was threatening to lock them in the dungeons when they were rescued by Professor Quirrell, who was passing.

Filch owned a cat called Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature with bulging, lamplike eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she would whisk off for Filch, who would appear, wheezing, two seconds later. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone (except perhaps the Weasley twins) and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students hated him, and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs. Norris a good kick.

And then, once you had managed to find them, there were the classes themselves. There was a lot more to magic, as Amanda quickly found out, than waving your wand and saying a few funny words.

They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week, they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for.

Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fires and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and got Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first class he took roll call, and when he reached Charlotte's name he nearly fell. When he reached Amanda and Harry's names he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight.

Professor McGonagall was again different. Amanda had been quite right to think she was not a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back. They were all very impressed and could not wait to get started, but soon realized they were not going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione Granger and Charlotte had made any difference to their matches; Professor McGonagall showed the class how they had gone all silver and pointy and gave them each one of her rare smiles.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he had met in Romania and was afraid would come back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been a gift to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they were not sure they believed this story. For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, they had noticed a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.

Amanda was relieved to find out that she and Harry were not miles behind everyone else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like the twins, had not had any idea that they were witches and wizards. There was so much to learn that even people like Ron and Charlotte did not have much of a head start.

Friday was an important day for Amanda, Harry, Ron, and Charlotte. They finally managed to find their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost.

"What have we got today?" Charlotte asked Ron as she poured sugar on her porridge.

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," said Ron. "Snape's Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them – we'll be able to see if it's true."

"Wish McGonagall favored us," said Harry. Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor House, but it had not stopped her from giving them a huge pile of homework the day before.

Just then, the mail arrived. Amanda had gotten used to this by now, but it had given her a bit of a shock the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps.

Hedwig had not brought Amanda, Harry, or Charlotte anything so far. She sometimes flew in to nibble Harry's ear and have a bit of toast before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note right on Amanda's place. Amanda tore it open at once. It said, in a very untidy scrawl:

Dear Amanda, Charlotte, and Harry,

I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send us and answer back with Hedwig.

Hagrid

Charlotte read it over Amanda's shoulder and borrowed Ron's quill, scribbled _Yes, please, see you later_ on the back of the note and sent Hedwig off again.

It was lucky they had tea with Hagrid to look forward to, because the Potions lesson turned out to be to worst thing that had happened to Amanda and Harry so far.

At the start-of-term banquet, Amanda had gotten the idea that Professor Snape disliked her and Harry. By the end of the first Potions lesson, she knew she had been wrong. Snape did not dislike the Potter twins – he _hated_ them, and he did not seem to care much for Charlotte either.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape, like Flitwick, started class by taking roll call, and, like Flitwick, he paused at Amanda, Harry, and Charlotte's names.

"Ah, yes," he said softly with little variation at each, "Our new – _celebrity_."

Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but hey had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word – like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the sense…. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Amanda, Harry, Ron, and Charlotte exchanged looks with eyebrows raised. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she was not a dunderhead.

"Harry Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

_Powdered root of what to an infusion of what?_ Amanda glanced at Harry, Ron, and Charlotte who looked as stumped as she was; Hermione's hand had shot into the air.

"I don't know, sir," said Harry.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut – fame and family clearly isn't everything."

He ignored Hermione's hand.

"Let's try again. Amanda Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat, but Amanda did not have the faintest idea what a bezoar was. She tried not to look at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were shaking with laughter.

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

Amanda forced herself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes. They _had_ looked through their books at the Dursleys', but did Snape expect them to remember everything in _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_?

Snape was still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand.

"What is the difference, Cromwell, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling.

"I don't know," said Charlotte quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

A few people laughed; Amanda caught Seamus's eye, and Seamus winked. Snape, however, was not pleased.

"Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. "For your information, Cromwell, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Cromwell."

Things did not improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes into people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Amanda, Harry, Ron, and Charlotte, who had been working next to Neville.

"You – Potter – why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

This was so unfair that Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Ron and Charlotte kicked him behind their cauldron.

"Don't push it," Ron muttered, "I've heard Snape can turn very nasty."

As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Amanda's mind was racing and his spirits were very low. Harry and Charlotte had lost two points for Gryffindor in their very first week – _why_ did Snape hate them so much?

"Cheer up," said Ron, "Snape's always taking points off Fred and George. Can I come and meet Hagrid with you?"

At five to three they left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.

When Harry knocked their heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying "_Back_, Fang – _bank_."

Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hang on," he said. "_Back_, Fang."

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound.

There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.

"This is Ron," Amanda told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate.

"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's freckles. "I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."

The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but Amanda, Harry, Ron and Charlotte pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first lessons. Fang rested his head on Harry's knee and drooled all over his robes.

Amanda, Harry, Charlotte and Ron were delighted to hear Hagrid call Filch "that old git."

"An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang sometime. D'yeh know every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her – Filch puts her up to it."

Charlotte told Hagrid about Snape's lesson. Hagrid, like Ron, told them not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students.

"But he seemed to really _hate_ us," Harry argued.

"Rubbish!" said Hagrid. "Why should he?"

Yet Amanda could not help thinking that Hagrid did not quite meet Harry's eyes when he said that.

"How's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid asked Ron. "I liked him a lot – great with animals."

Amanda wondered if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose. While Ron and told Hagrid all about Charlie's work with dragons and, Charlotte picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy and she and Amanda looked at it. It was a cutting from the _Daily Prophet_:

**GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST**

Investigations continue into the break-in at

Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the

work of Dark wizards or witches unknown.

Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing

had been taken. The vault that was searched had in

fact been empty the same day.

"But we're not telling you want was in there, so

keep your noses out if you know what's good

for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this after-

noon.

Amanda remembered it being mentioned on the train that someone had tried to rob Gringotts, but no one had mentioned the date.

"Hagrid!" said Charlotte, "That Gringotts break-in happened on Amanda and Harry's birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

There was no doubt about it, Hagrid definitely did not meet anyone's eyes this time. He grunted and offered Charlotte another rock cake. Amanda read the story again. _The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same day._ Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen, if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were looking for?

As Charlotte, Harry and Ron walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets weighed down with rock cakes they had been too polite to refuse, Harry thought that none of the lessons he had so far had given him as much to think about as tea with Hagrid. Had Hagrid collected that package just in time? Where was it now? And did Hagrid know something about Snape that he did not want to tell Harry?


	12. Dealing with Draco Malfoy

Charlotte had never believed she would meet anyone she could truly hate so much that it made her want to punch something, but that was before she had met Draco Malfoy. Still, first-year Gryffindors only had Potions with Slytherins, so they did not have to put up with Malfoy much. Or at least, they did not until they spotted a noticed pinned up in the Gryffindor common room that made them all groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday – and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.

"Typical," said Harry darkly. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy."

He had told Charlotte that he had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else.

"You don't know you'll make a fool of yourself," said Ron reasonably. "Anyway, I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."

Malfoy certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. He was not the only one, though: the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he had spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who would listen about the time he had almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Ron had already had a big argument with Dean Thomas, who shared their dormitory, about soccer. Ron could not see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly. Harry told Charlotte and Amanda that he had caught Ron prodding Dean's poster of West Ham soccer team, trying to make the players move.

Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Charlotte felt she had had good reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground. Charlotte had flown, of course, but she had never had a broom of her own, so she was probably the only other wizard-raised student without a dozen or more stories to tell.

Hermione Granger was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. This was something you could not learn by heart out of a book – not that she had not tried. At breakfast on Thursday she bored them all stupid with flying tips she had gotten out of a library book called _Quidditch Through the Ages_. Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.

Harry, Amanda, and Charlotte had not gotten a single letter since Hagrid's note, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course. Malfoy's eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things – this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red – oh…" His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, "… you've forgotten something…"

Neville was trying to remember what he had forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.

Harry, Charlotte, Amanda, and Ron jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.

"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

/-/

At three-thirty that afternoon, Amanda, Harry, Charlotte, Ron, and the other Gryffindors headed down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Amanda had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Amanda glanced down at her broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"

"UP!" everyone shouted.

Charlotte's broom jumped into her hand at once, but it was one of the few that did, like Amanda's and Harry's. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's had not moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Amanda; there was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Amanda, Charlotte, Harry, and Ron were delighted when she told Malfoy he had been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle –three –two – "

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle – twelve feet – twenty feet. Charlotte saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and –

WHAM – a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay face down on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

"Broken wrist," Amanda heard her mutter. "Come on, boy – it's all right, up you get."

She turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The other Slytherins joined in.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought _you'd_ like fat little cry-babies, Parvati."

"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

"Give that here, Malfoy," said Charlotte quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch.

Malfoy smiled nastily. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find – how about – up a tree?"

"Give it _here_!" Harry yelled, but Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. He had not been lying, he _could_ fly well. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Potter!"

Amanda, Harry, and Charlotte grabbed their brooms.

"_No!_" shouted Hermione Granger. "Madam Hooch told us not to move – you'll get us all into trouble."

The trio ignored her. Blood was pounding in Amanda's ears. They mounted the brooms and kicked hard against the ground and up, up they soared; air rushed through their hair and their robes whipped out behind them. Amanda found that she looked and Harry were not only good at flying, but they were brilliant, and they were enjoying it. She pulled her broomstick up a little to take it even higher, and Harry and Charlotte followed. She heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and an admiring whoop from Ron.

She turned her broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in midair. Malfoy looked stunned.

"Give it here," Harry called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!"

"Oh yeah?" said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but looking worried.

Amanda leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Malfoy like a javelin. Malfoy only just got out of the way in time; Amanda made a sharp about face and held the broom steady. A few people below were clapping.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Amanda called.

The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy.

"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.

Amanda saw, as though in slow motion, the ball rise up in the air and then start to fall. Harry leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down – next second was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball – Amanda's heartbeat mingling with the screams of people watching – he stretched out his hand – foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist. Charlotte and Amanda landed more gently next to him, and Amanda felt intensely relieved.

"HARRY POTTER! AMANDA POTTER! CHARLOTTE CROMWELL!"

Her heart sunk faster than Harry had just dived. Professor McGonagall was running toward them. Harry got to his feet, visibly trembling.

"_Never_ – in all my time at Hogwarts – "

Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, " – how _dare_ you – might have broken your neck – "

"It wasn't their fault, Professor – "

"Be quiet, Miss Patil – "

"But Malfoy – "

"That's _enough_, Miss Cromwell. Mr. Potter, Miss Potter, Miss Cromwell, follow me, now."

Amanda caught sight of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle's triumphant faces as they left, walking numbly in Professor McGonagall's wake as she strode toward the castle. They were going to be expelled, she just knew it. She wanted to say something to defend them, but there seemed to be something wrong with her voice. Professor McGonagall was sweeping along without even looking at them; they had to job to keep up. Now they'd done it. They had not even lasted two weeks. She'd be packing her bags in ten minutes. What would the Dursleys say when the twins turned up on the doorstep?

Up the front steps, up the marble staircase inside, and still Professor McGonagall did not say a word to them. She wrenched open doors and marched along corridors with Amanda, Charlotte, and Harry trotting miserably behind her. Maybe she was taking them to Dumbledore. Amanda thought of Hagrid, expelled but allowed to stay on as gamekeeper. Perhaps they could be Hagrid's assistants. Her stomach twisted as she imagined it, watching Ron and the others becoming wizards while she and Harry and Charlotte stumped around the grounds carrying Hagrid's things.

Professor McGonagall stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside.

"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"

Wood? thought Amanda, bewildered; was Wood a cane she was going to use on them?

But Wood turned out to be a person, a burly fifth-year boy who came out of Flitwick's class looking confused.

"Follow me, you three," said Professor McGonagall, and they marched on up the corridor, Wood looking curiously at Amanda, Harry, and Charlotte.

"In here."

Professor McGonagall pointed them into a classroom that was empty except for Peeves, who was busy writing rude words on the blackboard.

"Out, Peeves!" she barked. Peeves threw the chalk into a bin, which clanged loudly, and he swooped out, cursing. Professor McGonagall slammed the door behind him and turned to face the three students.

"Potters, Cromwell, this is Oliver Wood – I've found you a Seeker, and a possible pair of reserve Beaters or Chasers."

Wood's expression changed from puzzlement to delight.

"Are you serious, Professor?"

"Absolutely," said Professor McGonagall crisply. "They're naturals, I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded silently. Amanda could tell he did not have a clue what was going on, but he had figured that, as she had, that they probably were not going to be expelled. She was starting to get some of the feeling back in her legs.

"He caught this thing in his hand after a fifty-foot dive," Professor McGonagall told Wood. "Didn't even scratch himself. Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it."

Wood was now looking as though all his dreams had come true at once.

"Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?" he asked excitedly.

"Wood's the captain of the Gryffindor team," Professor McGonagall explained.

"He's just the build for a Seeker, too," said Wood, now walking around Amanda, Harry, and Charlotte, and staring at them. "Light – speedy – the girls are a bit small for Beaters, but then, I've been surprised before. We'll have to get them decent brooms, Professor – Nimbus Two Thousand or Cleensweep Seven, I'd say."

"I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the first-year rule. Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year. _Flattened_ in the last match by Slytherin, I couldn't look Severus Snape in the face for weeks…."

Professor McGonagall peered sternly over her glasses at harry and Charlotte.

"I want to hear you're training hard, you three, or I may change my mind about punishing you."

Then she suddenly smiled.

"Your parents would have been proud," she said. "James and Olivia were excellent Quidditch players themselves."

/-/

"You're_ joking_."

It was dinnertime. Harry had just finished telling Ron what had happened when he, Amanda, and Charlotte had left the grounds with Professor McGonagall. Ron had a piece of steak and kidney pie halfway to his mouth, but he had forgotten all about it.

"_Seeker?_" he said. "But first years _never_ – you must be the youngest house players in about – "

" – a century," said Amanda, shoveling pie into her mouth. Charlotte was as well. She felt particularly hungry after the excitement of the afternoon. "Wood told me."

Ron was so amazed, so impressed, he just sat there and gaped at them.

"We start training next week," said Charlotte. "Only don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret."

Fred and George Weasley now came into the hall, spotted Amanda, Harry, and Charlotte, and hurried over.

"Well done," said George in a low voice. "Wood told us. We're on the team too – starting Beaters." The look of significance he shot at Charlotte said he meant to keep it that way.

"I tell you, we're going to win that Quidditch cup for sure this year," said Fred. "We haven't won since Charlie left, but this year's team is going to be brilliant. You must be good, you three, Wood was almost skipping when he told us."

"Anyway, we've got to go, Lee Jordan reckons he's found a new secret passageway out of the school."

"Bet it's that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week. See you."

Fred and George had hardly disappeared when someone far less welcome turned up: Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"

"You're a lot graver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Harry coolly. There was of course nothing at all little about Crabbe and Goyle, but as the High Table was full of teachers, neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl.

"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Malfoy. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only – no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

"Of course he has," said Ron, wheeling around. "I'm his second. Who's yours?"

Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up.

"Crabbe," he said. "Midnight alright? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

When Malfoy had gone, Amanda, Ron, Charlotte, and Harry looked at each other.

"He does _not_ know what a wizard's duel is," snapped Amanda furiously. "And what do you mean, you're his second?"

"Well, a second's there to take over if you die," said Charlotte casually to Harry. Catching the look on Amanda and Harry's faces, she added quickly, "But people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. The most you and Malfoy'll be able to do is send sparks at each other. Neither of you knows enough magic to do any real damage. I bet he expected you to refuse, anyway."

"And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?"

"Throw it away and punch him on the nose," Ron suggested.

Amanda laughed. "Yeah, because _that_ qualifies as no contact."

"Excuse me."

They all looked up. It was Hermione Granger.

"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" said Charlotte.

Hermione ignored her and spoke to Harry.

"I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying – "

"Bet you could," Ron muttered.

" – and you _mustn't _go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be. It's really very selfish of you."

"And it's really none of your business," said Harry.

"Good-bye," said Amanda.


	13. Crime and NotPunishment

All the same, it was not what you would call the perfect end to the day, Amanda thought, as she lay awake listening to Lavender and Parvati falling asleep. Charlotte and Ron had spent all evening giving Harry advice such as "If he tries to curse you, you'd better dodge it, because I can't remember how to block them." There was a very could chance they were going to get caught by Filch or Mrs. Norris, and Amanda felt she was pushing her luck, breaking another school rule today. On the other hand, Malfoy's sneering face kept looming up out of the darkness – this was their big chance to beat Malfoy face-to-face. They could not miss it.

She slipped and Amanda on their bathrobes, picked up their wand and crept down the spiral staircase to find Ron and Harry waiting.

"Half-past eleven," Ron muttered, "we'd better go."

A few embers were still glowing in the fireplace, turning all the armchairs into hunched black shadows. They had almost reached the portrait hole when a voice spoke from the chair nearest them, "I can't believe you're going to do this, Harry."

A lamp flickered on. It was Hermione Granger, wearing a pink bathrobe and a frown.

"_You!_" said Amanda furiously. "Go back to bed!"

Hermione glared.

"She almost told your brother, Ron," Charlotte muttered, "Percy. I saw her, earlier."

Hermione nodded. "He's a prefect, he'd put a stop to this."

Amanda could not believe anyone could be so infuriating.

"Come on," Harry said to Amanda, Charlotte, and Ron. He pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady and climbed through the hole.

Hermione was not going to give up that easily. She followed them through the hole.

"Don't you _care_ about Gryffindor, do you _only_ care about yourselves,_ I_ don't want Slytherin to win the house cup, and you'll lose all the points Charlotte and I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells."

"Go away," Ron growled, softly.

"All right, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so – "

But what they were, they did not find out. Hermione had turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady to get back inside and found herself facing an empty painting. The Fat Lady had gone on a nighttime visit and Hermione was locked out of Gryffindor tower.

"Now what am I going to do?" she asked shrilly.

"That's your problem," said Amanda. "We've got to go, we're going to be late."

They had not even reached the end of the corridor when Hermione caught up with them.

"She's coming with us," Charlotte said, more noting the situation with surprise, and not particularly pleased about it.

"She is _not_," Ron snapped.

"D'you think I'm going to stand out here and wait for Filtch to catch me? If he finds all four of us, I'll tell him the truth, that I was trying to stop you, and you can back me up."

"You've got some nerve – " said Ron loudly.

"Shut up, both of you!" said Amanda sharply. "I heard something."

It was a sort of snuffling.

"Mrs. Norris?" breathed Charlotte, squinting through the dark.

It was not Mrs. Norris. It was Neville. He was curled up on the floor, fast asleep, but jerked suddenly awake as they crept nearer.

"Thank goodness you found me! I've been out here for hours, I could not remember the new password to get in to bed."

"Keep your voice down, Neville. The password's 'Pig snout' but it won't help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere," Ron sighed.

"How's your arm?" said Harry.

"Fine," said Neville, showing them. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute."

Amanda smiled. "Good – well, look, Neville, we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you later – "

"Don't leave me!" aid Neville, scrambling to his feet, "I don't want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baron's been past twice already."

Charlotte looked at her watch and then glared furiously at Hermione and Neville.

"If either of you get us caught, I'll never rest until I've learned that Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about, and used it on you."

Hermione opened her mouth, perhaps to tell Charlotte exactly how to use the Curse of the Bogies, but Harry hissed at her to be quiet and beckoned them all forward.

They flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. At every turn, Amanda expected to run into Filch or Mrs. Norris, but they were lucky. They sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed toward the trophy room.

Malfoy and Crabbe were not there yet. The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. They edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room. Harry took out his wand in case Malfoy leapt in and started at once. The minutes crept by.

"He's late, maybe he's chickened out," Ron whispered.

Then a noise in the next room made them jump. Harry had only just raised his wand when they heard someone speak – and it was not Malfoy.

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."

It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. Horror-struck, Amanda waved madly at the other five to follow her as quickly as possible; they scurried silently toward the door, away from Filch's voice. Neville's robes had barely whipped around the corner when they heard Filch enter the trophy room.

"They're in here somewhere," they heard him mutter, "probably hiding."

"This way!" Harry mouthed to the others and, petrified, they began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor. They could hear Filch getting nearer. Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke out into a run – he tripped, grabbed Ron around the waist, and the pair of them toppled right into a suit of armor.

The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle.

"RUN!" Amanda yelled, and the six of them sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following – they swung around the doorpost and galloped down one corridor then another, Harry and Amanda in the lead, without any idea where they were or where they were going – they ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came out near their Charms classroom, which they knew was miles from the trophy room.

"I think we've lost him," Charlotte panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping his forehead. Neville was bent double, wheezing and spluttering.

"I – _told_ – you," Hermione gasped, clutching at the stich in her chest, "I – told – you."

"We've got to get back to Gryffindor tower," said Ron, "quickly as possible."

"Malfoy tricked you," Hermione said to Amanda. "You realize that, don't you? He was never going to meet you – Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off."

Amanda knew she was right, but she was not going to admit it in front of the others.

"Let's go," Harry said.

It was not going to be that simple. They had not gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them.

It was Peeves. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight.

"Shut up, Peeves – please – you'll get us thrown out."

Peeves cackled.

"Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please," Amanda pleaded.

"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. "It's for your own good, you know."

"Get out of the way," snapped Charlotte, taking a swipe at Peeves – this was a big mistake.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

Ducking under Peeves, they ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door – and it was locked.

"This is it!" Ron moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door, "We're done for! This is the end!"

They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could toward Peeves's shouts.

"Oh, move over," Hermione snarled. She grabbed Harry's wand, tapped the lock, and whispered, "_Alohamora!_"

The lock clicked and the door swung open – they piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.

"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me."

"Say 'please.'"

"Don't mess with me, Peeves, now _where did they go?_"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice.

"All right – _please_."

"NOTHING! Ha haa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!" And they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.

"He thinks this door is locked," Harry whispered. "I think we'll be okay – get _off_, Neville!" For Neville had been tugging on the sleeve of Harry's bathrobe for the last minute. "_What?_"

Amanda turned around – and saw quite clearly, what. For a moment, she was sure she had walked into a nightmare – this was too much, on top of everything that had happened so far.

They were not in a room, as she had supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden.

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes form yellowish fangs.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Amanda know that the only reason they were not already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

Amanda groped for the doorknob – between Filch and death, she'd take Filch.

They fell backward – Amanda slammed the door shut, and they ran, they almost flew, back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for them somewhere else, because they did not see him anywhere, but they hardly cared – all they wanted to do was put as much space as possible between them and that monster. They did not stop running until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.

"Where on earth have you all been?" she asked, looking at their bathrobes hanging off their shoulders and their flushed, sweaty faces.

"Never mind that – pig snout, pig snout," panted Amanda, and the portrait swung forward. They scrambled into the common room and collapsed, trembling, into armchairs.

It was a while before any of them said anything. Neville, indeed, looked as if he would never speak again.

"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" said Charlotte finally. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does."

Hermione had got her breath and her bad temper back again.

"You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" she snapped. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"The floor?" Harry suggested. "I wasn't looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads."

"No," Hermione shook her head, "_not_ the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It's obviously guarding something."

She stood up, glaring at them.

"I hope you're pleased with yourselves. We could have all been killed – or worse, expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."

Ron stared after her, his mouth open.

"No, we don't mind," he said. "You'd think we dragged her along, wouldn't you?"

But Hermione had given Amanda something else to think about as she climbed back into bed. The dog was guarding something…. What had Hagrid said? Gringotts was the safest place in the world for something you wanted to hide – except perhaps Hogwarts.

It looked as though Amanda had found out where the grubby little packed from vault seven hundred and thirteen was.

/-/

Malfoy could not believe his eyes when he saw that Amanda, Harry, Ron, and Charlotte were still at Hogwarts the next day, looking tired but perfectly cheerful. Indeed, the next morning, Charlotte and Ron and Harry and Amanda thought that meeting the three-headed dog had been an excellent adventure and they were keen to have another one. In the meantime, Charlotte filled Ron in about the package that seemed to have been moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts, and they spent a lot of time wondering what could possibly need such heavy protection.

"It's either really valuable or really dangerous," said Amanda.

"Or both," said Charlotte.

But as all they knew for sure about the mysterious object was that it was about two inches long, they did not have much chance of guessing what it was without further clues.

Neither Neville nor Hermione showed the slightest interest in what lay underneath the dog and the trapdoor. All Neville cared about was never going near the dog again.

Hermione was now refusing to speak to Amanda, Harry, Charlotte and Ron, but she was such a bossy know-it-all that they saw this as an added bonus. All they really wanted now was a way of getting back at Malfoy, and to their great delight, just such a thing arrived in the mail about a week later.

As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, everyone's attention was caught at once by three long, thin packages carried by six large screech owls each. Charlotte was just as interested as everyone else to see what was in these large parcels, and was amazed when the owls soared down and dropped them right in front of her, Amanda, and Harry, knocking her bacon to the floor. They had hardly fluttered away when another owl dropped a letter on top of the parcels.

Harry ripped open the letter first, which was lucky, because it said:

DO NOT OPEN THE PARCELS AT THE TABLE.

They contain your new Nimbus Two Thousands, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got broomsticks or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your first training session.

Professor McGonagall

Harry and Charlotte had difficulty hiding their glee as she handed the note to Ron to read.

"A Nimbus Two Thousand!" Ron moaned enviously. "I've never even _touched_ one."

They left the hall quickly, wanting to unwrap the broomsticks in private before their first classes, but halfway across the entrance hall they found the way upstairs barred by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy seized a package from Harry and felt it.

"That's a broomstick," he said, throwing it back to Harry with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. "You'll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren't allowed them."

Charlotte could not resist it.

"They're not any old broomsticks," she said, "they're Nimbus Two Thousands. What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?" She grinned at Harry and Amanda. "Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus."

"What would you know about it, Cromwell, you've never been allowed to as much as touch a racing broom," Malfoy snapped back. "Is suppose you thought the school brooms were something special."

Before Charlotte could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy's elbow.

"Not arguing, I hope, boys?" he squeaked.

"The Potters and Cromwell have been sent broomsticks, Professor," said Malfoy quickly.

"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Amanda, Harry, and Charlotte. "Professor McGonagall told me about the special circumstances. And what model are they?"

"Nimbus Two Thousand, sir," said Amanda, fighting not to laugh at the look of horror on Malfoy's face. "And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that we've got them," she added.

Amanda, Charlotte, Harry and Ron headed upstairs, smothering their laughter at Malfoy's obvious rage and confusion.

"Well, it's true," Harry chortled as they reached the top of the marble staircase, "If he hadn't stolen Neville's Remembrall, we wouldn't be on the team…."

"So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking the rules?" came an angry voice from just behind them. Hermione was stomping up the stairs, looking disapprovingly at the packages in Harry, Amanda, and Charlotte's hands.

"I thought you weren't speaking to us?" said Harry.

"Yes, don't stop now," said Amanda, "it's doing us so much good."

Hermione marched away with her nose in the air.

Charlotte had a lot of trouble keeping her mind on her lessons that day. It kept wandering up to the dormitory where her new broomstick was lying under her bed, or straying off to the Quidditch field where she would be learning to play that night. She bolted her dinner that evening without noticing what she was eating, and then rushed upstairs with Amanda, Harry, and Ron, to open their Nimbus Two Thousands at last.

"Wow," Charlotte sighed, looking as the broomstick rolled onto Harry's bedspread.

Even Harry and Amanda seemed impressed, and they knew nothing about brooms. Sleek and shiny, with mahogany handles, they had long tails of neat, straight twigs and Nimbus Two Thousand written in gold near the tops.

As seven o'clock drew nearer, Harry, Amanda, and Charlotte left the castle and set off in the dusk toward the Quidditch field. They'd never been inside the stadium before. Hundreds of seats were raised in stands around the field so that the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At either end of the field were three golden poles with hoops on the end. Harry said that they reminded him of little plastic sticks Muggle children blew bubbles through, except that they were fifty feet high.

Too eager to fly again to wait for Wood, Harry, Amanda, and Charlotte mounted their broomsticks and kicked off from the ground. What a feeling – Charlotte swooped in and out of the goal posts and then sped up and down the field. The Nimbus Two Thousand turned wherever she wanted at her lightest touch.

"Hey, Cromwell, Potters, come down!"

Oliver Wood had arrived. He was carrying a large wooden crate under his arm. Harry landed next to him, and Charlotte landed between them.

"Very nice," said Wood, his eyes glinting. "I see what McGonagall meant… you really are naturals. I'm just going to teach you the rules this evening, then you'll be joining team practice three times a week."

Charlotte did watch Quidditch, like everyone else she knew. Her great-grandfather had played for Puddlemere United, years ago. Yet she was relieved for the crash course, since she had never taken time to learn the rules, just cheered when everyone else did and kept track of league standings.

Wood opened the crate. Inside were four different-sized balls.

"Right," said Wood. "Now, Quidditch is easy enough to understand, even if it's not too easy to play. There are seven players on each side. Three of them are Chasers." He smiled at Charlotte. She might have to step in as a Chaser.

"Three Chasers," Harry repeated, as Wood took out a bright red ball about the size of a soccer ball Charlotte had seen Dean mess with.

"This ball's called the Quaffle," said Wood. "The Chasers throw the Quaffle to each other and try and get it through one of the hoops to score a goal. Ten points every time the Quaffle goes though one of the hoops. Follow me?"

"The Chasers throw the Quaffle and put it through the hoops to score," Harry recited. "So – that's sort of like basketball on broomsticks with six hoops, isn't it?"

"What's basketball?" said Wood, curiously.

"Never mind," said Amanda quickly, shooting Harry a look. They did not have time to explain the world of Muggle sports to Wood.

"Now, there's another player on each side who's called the Keeper – I'm Keeper. I have to fly around our hoops and stop the other team from scoring."

"Three Chasers, one Keeper," said Charlotte, determined to remember it all. "And they play with the Quaffle. Okay, got that. So what are they for?" She pointed at the three balls left inside the box.

"I'll show you now," said Wood. "Take this."

He handed Charlotte a small club, a bit like a short baseball bat.

"I'm going to show you what the Bludgers do," Wood said. "These two are Bludgers."

He showed Harry two identical balls, jet black and slightly smaller than the red Quaffle. Charlotte noticed that they seemed to be straining to escape the straps holding them inside the box.

"Stand back," Wood warned Harry and Amanda. He bent down and freed one of the Bludgers.

At once, the black ball rose high in the air and then pelted straight at Harry's face. Charlotte swung at it with the bat to stop it from breaking his nose, and sent it zigzagging away into the air – it zoomed around their heads and then shot at Wood, who dived on top of it and managed to pin it to the ground.

"See?" Wood panted, forcing the struggling Bludger back into the crate strapping it down safely. "The Bludgers rocket around trying to knock players off their brooms. Cromwell, Professor McGonagall was right about you, you'd do a beautiful job as a Beater. There's two Beaters on each team – the Weasley twins are ours – it's their job to protect their side from the Bludgers and try and knock them toward the other team. So – think you've got all that?"

"Three Chasers try and score with the Quaffle; the Keeper guards the goal posts; the Beaters keep the Bludgers away from their team," Harry reeled off.

"Very good," said Wood.

"Er – have the Bludgers ever killed anyone?" Harry asked, trying to sound offhand.

"Never at Hogwarts. We've had a couple of broken jaws but nothing worse than that. Now, the last member of the team is the Seeker. That's you, Potter. And you don't have to worry about the Quaffle or the Bludgers – "

" – unless they crack your head open." Amanda gave Harry a grimace.

"Don't worry, the Weasleys are more than a match for the Bludgers – I mean, they're like a pair of human Bludgers themselves."

Wood reached into the crate and took out the fourth and last ball. Compared with the Quaffle and the Bludgers, it was tiny, about the size of a large walnut. It was bright gold and had little fluttering silver wings.

"This," said Wood, "is the Golden Snitch, and it's the most important ball of the lot. It's very hard to catch because it's so fast and difficult to see. It's the Seeker's job to catch it. You've got to weave in and out of the Chasers, Beaters, Bludgers, and Quaffle to get it before the other team's Seeker, because whichever Seeker catches the Snitch wins his team an extra hundred and fifty points, so they nearly always win. That's why Seekers get fouled so much. A game of Quidditch only ends when the Snitch is caught, so it can go on for ages – I think the record is three months, they had to keep bringing on substitutes so the players could get some sleep.

"Well, that's it – any questions?"

Harry, Amanda, and Charlotte shook their heads. They understood what they had to do all right, it's just for Harry, doing it that was the problem.

"We won't practice with the Snitch yet," said Wood, carefully shutting it back inside the crate, "it's too dark, we might lose it. Let's try you out with a few of these."

He pulled out a bag of ordinary golf balls out of his pocket and a few minutes later, he and Harry were up in the air, Wood throwing the golf balls as hard as he could in every direction for Harry to catch.

Harry did not miss a single one, and Wood was delighted.

After about twenty minutes, Wood had Harry call it a night and had Charlotte and Amanda get up in the air with the Quaffle to try their luck at scoring on him. They only had about ten more minutes until it would be too dark to carry on, so they quickly ran through some trials.

The girls were very good, but Wood was a first-rate Keeper. It did not help that Wood and Charlotte seemed to be able to read each other's minds, so Charlotte and Amanda only managed to get a couple of goals before it got really dark.

"That Quidditch Cup'll have our name on it this year," said Wood happily as they trudged back up to the castle. "I wouldn't be surprised if you turn out to be better than Charlie Weasley and the twins, and Charlie could have played for England if he hadn't gone off chasing dragons."


	14. TROLL IN THE DUNGEON!

Perhaps it was because he was now so busy, what with Quidditch practice three evenings a week on top of all his homework, but Harry could hardly believe it he realized that he had already been at Hogwarts two months. The castle felt more like home than Privet Drive ever had. His lessons, too, were becoming more and more interesting now that they had mastered the basics.

On Halloween morning they woke to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly, something they had all been dying to try since they'd seen him make Neville's toad zoom around the classroom. Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practice. Harry's partner was Seamus Finnigan (which was a relief, because Neville had been trying to catch his eye). Charlotte had snared Dean Thomas, who was one of her favorite people to pair up with because he was almost a match for her ability to make anything into a joke-fest. Ron, however, was to be working with Hermione Granger. It was hard to tell whether Ron or Hermione was angrier about this. She had not spoken to any of them since the day Harry and Charlotte's broomsticks had arrived.

"Now don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too – never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f'' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

It was very difficult. Harry and Seamus swished and flicked, but the feather they were supposed to be sending skyward just lay on the desktop. Seamus got so impatient that he prodded it with his wand and set fire to it – Harry had to put it out with his hat.

Charlotte and Dean, of course, were not doing much better. While they were both good students left to their own devices, when they paired up they paid less attention to their schoolwork and more attention to how awfully everyone else was doing at the schoolwork. Harry suspected that they did not even attempt to lift the feather, which one could get away with in Professor Flitwick's class, but Harry also heard them very distinctly sniggering when Seamus set fire to their feather.

Ron, at the next table, was not having much more luck than Harry.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!_" he shouted, waving his long arms like a windmill.

"You're saying it wrong," Harry heard Hermione snap. "It's Wing-_gar_-dium Levi-_o_-sa, make the 'gar' nice and long."

"You do it then, if you're so clever," Ron snarled.

Charlotte could be heard mocking Hermione, who appeared not to hear her. "Levi-_o_-sa, Dean. Honestly." They both sniggered.

Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her gown, flicked her wand, and said, "_Wingardium Leviosa!_"

Their feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads.

"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "Everyone see here, Miss Granger's done it!"

Surprisingly, Hermione shot a satisfied look not at Ron, but at Charlotte, who ceased her sniggering instantly.

Ron and Charlotte were both in very bad moods by the end of the class.

"It's no wonder no one can stand her," Ron said to Harry and Charlotte as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor, "she's a nightmare, honestly."

Someone knocked into Harry as they hurried past him. It was Hermione. Harry caught a glimpse of her face – and was startled to see that she was in tears.

"I think she heard you."

"So?" said Charlotte, but she and Ron looked a bit uncomfortable. "She must've noticed she's got no friends."

Hermione did not turn up for the next class and was not seen all afternoon. On their way to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, Harry and Ron overheard Parvati Patil telling her friend Lavender that Hermione was crying in the girls' bathroom and wanted to be left alone. Ron looked still more awkward at this, but a moment later then had entered the Great Hall, where the Halloween decorations but Hermione out of their minds.

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.

Harry was just helping himself to a baked potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll – in the dungeons – thought you out to know."

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Percy was in his element.

"Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a prefect!"

"How could a troll get in?" Harry asked as they climbed the stairs.

"Don't ask me, they're supposed to be really stupid," said Ron. "Maybe Peeves let it in for a Halloween joke."

They passed different groups of people hurrying in different directions. As they jostled their way through a crowd of confused Hufflepuffs, Harry suddenly grabbed Ron and Charlotte's arms.

"I've just though – Hermione."

"What about her?" Charlotte looked genuinely confused.

"She doesn't know about the troll."

Ron bit his lip.

"Oh, all right," he snapped. "But Percy'd better not see us."

Ducking down, they joined the Hufflepuffs going the other way, slipped down a deserted side corridor, and hurried off toward the girls' bathroom. They had just turned the corner when they heard quick footsteps behind them.

"Percy!" hissed Ron, pulling Harry and Charlotte behind a large stone griffin.

Peering around it, however, they saw not Percy but Snape. He crossed the corridor and disappeared from view.

"What's he doing?" Charlotte whispered. "Why isn't he down in the dungeons with the rest of the teachers?"

"Search me," said Ron.

Quietly as possible, they crept along the next corridor after Snape's fading footsteps.

"He's heading for the third floor," Harry said, but Ron held up his hand.

"Can you smell something?"

Harry sniffed and a foul stench reached his nostrils, a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean.

And then they heard it – a low grunting, and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet. Ron pointed – at the end of a passage to the left, something huge was moving toward them. They shrank into the shadows and watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight.

It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room.

"The key's in the lock," Charlotte muttered. "We could lock it in."

"Good idea," said Ron nervously.

They edged toward the open door, mouths dry, praying the troll was not about to come out of it. With one great leap, Harry managed to grab the key, slam the door, and lock it.

"_Yes!_"

Flushed with their victory, they started to run back up the passage, but as they reached the corner they heard something that made their hearts stop – a high, petrified scream – and it was coming from the chamber they had just chained up.

"Oh, no," said Ron, pale as the Bloody Baron.

Charlotte whipped around to take another look at the door. "It's the girls' bathroom!" she gasped.

"_Hermione!_" Harry and Ron said together.

It was the last thing they wanted to do, but what choice did they have? Wheeling around, they sprinted back to the door and turned the key, fumbling in their panic. Harry pulled the door open and they ran inside.

Hermione Granger was shrinking against the wall opposite, looking as if she was about to faint. The troll was advancing on her, knocking the sinks off the wall as it went.

"Confuse it!" Harry said desperately to Ron, and seizing a tap, he threw it as hard as he could against the wall.

The troll stopped a few feet from Hermione. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly, to see what had made the noise. It's mean little eyes saw Harry. It hesitated, then made for him instead, lifting its club as it went.

"Oy, pea-brain!" yelled Ron from the other side of the chamber, and he threw a metal pipe at it. The troll did not even seem to notice the pipe its shoulder, but it heard the yell and paused again, turning its ugly snout toward Ron instead, giving Charlotte time to run around it.

"Come on, run, _run_!" Charlotte yelled at Hermione, trying to pull her toward the door, but she could not move, she was still flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror.

The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll beserk. It roared again and started toward Ron, who was nearest and had no way to escape.

Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: He took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the troll's neck from behind. The troll could not fell Harry hanging up there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry's wand had still been in his hand when he had jumped – it had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.

Howling with pain, he troll twisted and flailed its club, with Harry clinging on for dear life; any second, the troll was going to rip him off or catch him a terrible blow with the club.

Hermione had sunk to the floor in fright; Ron pulled out his own wand – not knowing what he was going to do he heard himself cry the first spell that came into his head: "_Wingardium Leviosa!_"

The club flew out of the troll's hand, rose high, high up into the air, turned slowly over – then dropped, with a sickening crack, onto its owner's head. The troll swayed on the spot and then fell flat on its face, with a thud that made the whole room tremble.

Harry got to his feet. He was shaking and out of breath. Ron was standing there with his wand still raised, staring at what he had done.

It was Hermione who spoke first.

"Is it – dead?"

"I don't think so," said Harry, "I think it's just been knocked out."

He bent down and pulled his wand out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue.

Charlotte looked like she was ready to vomit. "Urgh – troll boogers."

He wiped it on the troll's trousers.

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the four of them look up. They had not realized what a racket they had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars. A moment later Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart.

Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at Ron, Harry and Charlotte. Harry had never seen her look so angry. Her lips were white. Hopes of winning fifty points for Gryffindor faded quickly from Harry's mind.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. Harry looked at Ron, who was still standing with his wand in the air. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Snape gave Harry a swift, piercing look. Harry looked at the floor. He wished Ron would put his wand down.

Then a small voice came out of the shadows.

"Please, Professor McGonagall – they were looking for me."

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione had managed to get to her feet at last.

"I went looking for the troll because I – I thought I could deal with it on my own – you know, because I've read all about them."

Ron dropped his wand. Hermione Granger, telling a downright lie to a teacher?

"If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Harry stuck his wand up its nose and Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."

Harry, Charlotte and Ron tried to look as though this story was not new to them.

"Well – in that case…" said Professor McGonagall, staring at the four of them, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own."

Hermione hung her head. Harry was speechless. Hermione was the last person to do anything against the rules, and here she was, pretending she had, to get them out of trouble. It was as if Snape had started handing out sweets.

"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," said Professor McGonagall. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, I you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."

Hermione left.

Professor McGonagall turned to Harry, Charlotte and Ron.

"Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go."

They hurried out of the chamber and did not speak at all until they had climbed two floors up. It was a relief to be away from the smell of troll, quite apart from anything else.

"We should have gotten more than fifteen points," Charlotte grumbled.

"Ten, you mean, once she's taken off Hermione's."

"Good of her to get us out of trouble like that," Ron admitted. "Mind you, we _did_ save her."

"She might not have needed saving if we hadn't locked the thing in with her," Harry reminded him.

They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Pig snout," Charlotte said and they entered.

The common room was packed and noisy. Everyone was eating the food that had been sent up. Hermione, however, stood alone by the door, waiting for them. There was a very embarrassed pause. Then, none of them looking at each other, they all said "Thanks," and hurried off to get plates.

But from that moment on, Hermione Granger became their friend. There are some things you cannot share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.

/-/

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots.

The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry would be playing his first match and Charlotte would be sitting on the bench (if all went well) after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the house championship.

Hardly anyone had seen Harry or Charlotte play because Wood had decided that, as their secret weapon, Harry should be kept, well, secret. But news that he was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow, and Harry did not know which was worse – people telling him he would be brilliant or people telling him they would be running around underneath him holding a mattress.

It was really lucky that Harry now had Hermione as a friend. He did not know how he would have gotten through all his homework without her, what with all the last-minute Quidditch practice Wood was making them do. Charlotte did not seem to be having troubles juggling, but then, she never did. Hermione also had lent them Quidditch Through the Ages, which turned out to be a very interesting read.

Harry learned that there were seven hundred ways of committing a Quidditch foul and that all of them had happened during a World Cup match in 1473; that Seekers were usually the smallest and fastest players, and that most serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to them; that although people rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert.

Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since Harry, Charlotte and Ron had saved her from the mountain troll, and she was much nicer for it. The day before Harry's first Quidditch match the four of them were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and she had conjured them up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar. They were standing with their backs to it, getting war, when Snape crossed the yard. Harry noticed at once that Snape was limping. Harry, Charlotte, Ron and Hermione moved closer together to block the fire from view; they were sure it would not be allowed. Unfortunately, something about their guilty faces caught Snape's eye. He limped over. He had not seen the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to tell them off anyway.

"What's that you've got there, Potter?"

It was _Quidditch Through the Ages_. Harry showed him.

"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," said Snape. "Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor."

"He's just made that rule up." Harry muttered angrily as Snape limped away. "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"

"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," said Ron bitterly.


	15. Fluffy

The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. Amanda, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Charlotte sat together next to a window. Hermione and Charlotte were checking Amanda, Harry, and Ron's Charms homework for them. They would never let them copy ("How will you learn?" said Hermione), but by asking them to read it through, they got all the right answers anyway.

Amanda felt restless. She wanted _Quidditch Through the Ages_ back, to take her mind off her nerves about tomorrow. Why should she be afraid of Snape? Getting up, she grabbed Harry's and Charlotte's arms, she told Ron and Hermione they were going to ask Snape if they could have it.

"Better you than me," the pair said together, but Amanda had an idea that Snape would not refuse if there were other teachers listening.

They made their way down to the staffroom and knocked. There was no answer. Charlotte knocked again. Nothing.

Perhaps Snape had left the book in there? It was worth a try. Amanda pushed the door ajar and they peered inside – and a horrible scene met their eyes.

Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages.

"Blasted thing," Snape was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?"

Amanda tried to shut the door quietly as Charlotte backed away, but –

"POTTER!"

Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg. Harry and Amanda were white as a sheet and Charlotte was nowhere to be seen, although Amanda guessed that she had hidden behind a suit of armor.

"I just wondered if we could have our book back," Harry said, rather more bravely than Amanda felt.

"GET OUT! _OUT!_"

Amanda, Harry, and Charlotte left, before Snape could take any more points from Gryffindor. They sprinted back upstairs.

"Did you get it?" Ron asked as Amanda, Harry, and Charlotte rejoined him and Hermione. "What's the matter?"

In a low whisper, Amanda told them what they had seen.

"You know what this means?" she finished breathlessly. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Halloween! That's where he was going when we saw him – he's after whatever it's guarding! And I'd bet my broomstick he let that troll in, to make a diversion!"

Charlotte moaned. "Great. He nearly killed us. And I thought the worst would be detention, or maybe getting expelled, if I crossed him."

Hermione's eyes were wide.

"No – he wouldn't," she said. "I know he's not very nice, but he wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe."

"Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something," snapped Ron. "I'm with Harry. I wouldn't put anything past Snape. But what's he after? What's that dog guarding?"

Amanda went to bed with her head buzzing with the same question. Lavender was snoring loudly, but Amanda could not sleep anyway. She tried to empty her mind – she needed to sleep, she had to, she may have to play her first Quidditch match in a few hours – but the expression on Snape's face when Amanda, Harry, and Charlotte had seen his leg was not easy to forget.

/-/

The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.

"You've got to eat some breakfast."

"I don't want anything," said Amanda.

"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Charlotte, although the twins looked very green.

"I'm not hungry," said Harry.

In an hour's time he, Amanda, and Charlotte would be walking onto the field.

"Harry, you need your strength," said Seamus Finnigan. "Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team."

"Thanks, Seamus," said Harry, watching Seamus pile ketchup on his sausages.

/-/

By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes.

Ron and Hermione joined Neville, Seamus, and Dean the West Ham fan up in the top row. As a surprise for Harry, they had painted a large banner on one of the sheets Scabbers had ruined. It said Potter for President, and Dean, who was good at drawing, had done a large Gryffindor lion underneath. Then Hermione had performed a tricky little charm so that the paint flashed different colors.

Meanwhile, in the locker room, Amanda, Harry, Charlotte and the rest of the team were changing into their scarlet Quidditch robes (Slytherin would be playing in green).

Wood cleared his throat for silence.

"Okay, men," he said.

"And women," said Chaser Angelina Johnson.

"And women," Wood agreed. "This is it."

"The big one," said Fred Weasley.

"The one we've all been waiting for," said George.

"We know Oliver's speech by heart," Fred whispered to Charlotte and Amanda, "we were on the team last year."

"Shut up, you two," said Wood. "This is the best team Gryffindor's had in years. We're going to win. I know it."

He glared at them all as if to say, "Or else."

"Right. It's time. Good luck, all of you."

Amanda, Harry, and Charlotte followed Fred and George out of the locker room and, Amanda hoping her knees weren't going to give way, walked onto the field to loud cheers.

Amanda and Charlotte moved off to the bench, where they sat alone, as the only reserve players on either team. Hopefully, they would not be needed.

Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand.

"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," she said, once they were all gathered around her. Charlotte noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, a sixth year. Charlotte thought Flint looked as if he had some troll blood in him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the fluttering banner high above, flashing Potter for President over the crowd. Her heart skipped and she looked over at Harry. He had seen it too, and he certainly looked a bit braver.

"Mount your brooms, please."

Harry clambered onto his Nimbus Two Thousand.

Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle.

Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor – what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too – "

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good friend of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve – back to Johnson and – no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes – Flint flying like an eagle up there – he's going to sc – no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle – that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and – OUCH – that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger – Quaffle taken by the Slytherins – that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger – sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which – nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes – she's really flying – dodges a speeding Bludger – the goal posts are ahead – come on, no, Angelina – Keeper Bletchley dives – misses – GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

During the dead time, Katie Bell flew down to sub out and Amanda nearly fainted. Katie had a smile. "I'm not seriously injured, or anything, but I could use a few minutes to get my bearings. Look down during down time and I'll signal when I'm ready to come back in."

Amanda nodded and jumped on her broom, taking to the air. Gryffindor cheers for the goal were still filling the cold air, with howls and moans form the Slytherins.

"Budge up there, move along."

"Hagrid!"

Ron and Hermione squeezed together to give Hagrid enough space to join them.

Amanda flew up into the action. George Weasley gave her a grin. "Which one do you want me to hit next?" He winked. "Your treat, first game and all."

She laughed. "How about you just hit them all and let me focus on scoring on their Keeper."

He gave her a silly salute and zoomed off.

Hagrid was settling in over in the stands.

"Bin watchin' from me hut," said Hagrid, patting a large pair of binoculars around his neck, "But it isn't the same as bein' in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"

"Nope," said Ron. "Amanda just got in for Katie Bell, but shouldn't be in long, it was just a Bludger to the head. Charlotte's still on the bench and Harry hasn't had much to do yet."

"Kept outta trouble, though, that's somethin'," said Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering skyward at the speck that was Harry.

Way up above them, Harry was gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the Snitch. This was part of his and Wood's game plan.

"Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch," Wood had said. "We don't want you attacked before you have to be."

When Angelina had scored and Amanda came in the game, Harry did a couple of loop-the-loops to let off his feelings. Now he was back to staring around for the Snitch. Once he caught sight of a flash of gold, but it was just a reflection from one of the Weasley's wristwatches and once a Bludger decided to come pelting his way, more like a cannonball than anything, but Harry dodged it and Fred Weasley came chasing after it.

"All right there, Harry?" he had time to yell, as he beat the Bludger furiously toward Marcus Flint.

"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Potter, and speeds toward the – wait a moment – was that the Snitch?"

A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear.

Harry saw it. In a great rush of excitement he dived downward after the streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it, too. Neck and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch – all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch.

Harry was faster than Higgs – he could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead – he put on an extra spurt of speed –

WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below, and Amanda's broom shot forward – Marcus Flint had blocked harry on purpose and Harry's broom spun off course, Harry holding on for dear life.

"Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors, and Amanda, seeing that her twin was okay, now focused her attention on Flint, with the angriest glare she could muster.

Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goal posts for Gryffindor. But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.

Down in the stands, Dean Thomas was yelling, "Send him off, ref! Red card!"

"What are you talking about, Dean?" said Ron.

"Red card!" said Dean furiously. "In soccer you get shown the red card and you're out of the game!"

"But this isn't soccer, Dean," Ron reminded him.

Hagrid, however, was on Dean's side.

"They oughta change the rules. Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the air."

Amanda zoomed over to Fred Weasley, with an incredibly determined and angry expression.

"I've changed my mind, Fred, I want you and George to get Flint and I don't care if you break his neck. Make him regret it."

Fred laughed. "Excellent, I've been dying to knock that lump off his broom since I started playing!"

Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides.

"So – after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating – "

"Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul – "

"_Jordan, I'm warning you_ – "

"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."

It was as Harry dodged another Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past his head, that it happened. His broom gave a sudden, frightful lurch. For a split second, he thought he was going to fall. He gripped his broom tightly with both his hands and knees. He had never felt anything like that.

It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harry tried to turn back toward the Gryffindor goal posts – he had half a mind to ask Wood to call time-out – and then realized that his broom was completely out of his control. He could not turn it. He could not direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him.

Lee was still commentating.

"Slytherin in possession – Flint with the Quaffle – passes Spinnet – passes Amanda Potter – hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose – only joking, Professor – Slytherins score – oh, no…"

The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed that Harry's broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.

"Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing," Hagrid mumbled. He stared through his binoculars. "If I didn' know better, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom… but he can't have…."

Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with one hand.

"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?" Seamus whispered.

"Can't have," Hagrid said, his voice shaking. "Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark magic – no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand."

At these words, Hermione seized Hagrid's binoculars, but instead of looking up at Harry, she started looking frantically at the crowd.

"What are you doing?" moaned Ron, gray-faced.

"I knew it," Hermione gasped, "Snape – look."

Ron grabbed the binoculars. Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering nonstop under his breath.

"He's doing something – jinxing the broom," said Hermione.

Up above, Amanda had just realized something was very wrong. She looked up and saw Harry hanging on to his broomstick for dear life. "Damn." But as she could not think of anything to do without breaking any rules, she turned away and continued play, her heart racing.

Ron looked like chalk in the stands. "What should we do?"

"Leave it to me."

Before Ron could say another word, Hermione had disappeared. Ron turned the binoculars back to Harry. His broom was vibrating so hard it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys and Amanda flew up to try and pull Harry safely onto one of their brooms, but it was no good – every time they got near him, but broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell. Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing.

"Come one, Hermione," Ron muttered desperately.

Hermione had fought her way across to the stand where Snape stood, and was now racing along the row behind him; she did not even stop to say sorry as she knocked Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front. Reaching Snape, she crouched down, pulled out her wand, and whispered a few, well-chosen words. Bright blue flames shot from her wand onto the hem of Snape's robes.

It took perhaps thirty seconds for Snape to realize that he was on fire. A sudden yelp told her that she had done her job. Scooping the fire off him into a little jar in her pocket, she scrambled back along the row – Snape would never know what had happened.

It was enough. Up in the air, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back on to his broom. Amanda heaved a great sigh. "Thank God."

"Neville, you can look!" Ron said. Neville had been sobbing into Hagrid's jacket for the last five minutes.

Harry was speeding toward the ground when the crowd saw him clap his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick – he hit the field on all fours – coughed – and something gold fell into his hand.

"I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion.

"He didn't _catch_ it, he nearly _swallowed_ it," Flint was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference – Harry had not broken any rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the results – Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty. Harry heard none of this, though. He was being a cup of strong tea back in Hagrid's hut, with Ron, Charlotte and Hermione.

"It was Snape," Ron was explaining, "Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."

"Rubbish," said Hagrid, who had not heard a word of what had gone on next to him in the stands. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"

Amanda, Harry, Charlotte, Ron and Hermione looked at one another, wondering what to tell him.

"I found out something about him," Harry told Hagrid. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding."

Hagrid dropped the teapot.

"How do you know about Fluffy?" he said.

"_Fluffy?_" Amanda gasped.

"Yeah – he's mine – bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year – I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the – "

"Yes?" said Charlotte eagerly.

"Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."

"But Snape's trying to _steal_ it," Harry insisted.

"Rubbish," said Hagrid again. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."

"So why did he just try and kill Harry?" cried Hermione.

The afternoon's events certainly seemed to have even changed Hermione's mind about Snape.

"I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I've read all about them! You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw him!"

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all four of yeh – yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel – "

"Aha!" said Harry, "so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

Hagrid looked furious with himself.


	16. Christmas in the Castle

Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.

No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons.

"I do feel so sorry," said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."

He was looking over at Charlotte, Amanda, and Harry as he spoke. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. Charlotte, who was measuring out powdered spine of lionfish, ignored them. Malfoy had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quiddtich match. Disgusted that the Slytherins had lost, he had tried to get everything laughing at how a wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing Harry as Seeker next. Then he had realized that nobody found this funny, because they were all so impressed at the way Harry had managed to stay on his bucking broomstick. So Malfoy, jealous and angry, had gone back to taunting Harry, Amanda, and Charlotte about having no proper family.

It was true that Amanda and Harry were not going back to Privet Drive; neither was Charlotte going back to Cromwell Manor for Christmas. Professor McGonagall had come around the week before, making a list of students who would be staying for the holidays, and Amanda, Harry, and Charlotte had signed up at once. They did not feel sorry for themselves at all; this would probably be the best Christmas either had ever had. Ron and his brothers were staying, too, because Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going to Romania to visit Charlie.

When they left the dungeons at the end of Potions, they found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it.

"Hi, Hagrid, want any help?" Amanda asked, sticking his head through the branches.

"Nah, I'm all right, thanks, 'manda."

"Would you mind moving out of the way?" came Malfoy's cold drawl from behind them. "Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to become the gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose – that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to."

Ron dived at Malfoy just as Snape came up the stairs.

"WEASLEY!"

Ron let go of the front of Malfoy's robes.

"He was provoked, Professor Snape," said Hagrid, sticking his huge hairy face out from behind the tree. "Malfoy was insultin' his family."

"Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid," said Snape silkily. "Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn't more. Move along, all of you."

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle pushed roughly past the tree, scattering needles everywhere and smirking.

"I'll get him," said Charlotte, grinding her teeth angrily at Malfoy's back, "one of these days, I'll get him – "

"I hate them both," said Harry, "Malfoy and Snape."

"Come on, cheer up, it's nearly Christmas," said Hagrid. "Tell yeh what, come with me an' see the Great Hall, it looks a treat."

So the four of them followed Hagrid and his tree off to the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with the Christmas decorations.

"Ah, Hagrid, the last tree – put it in the far corner, would you?"

The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.

"How many days you got left until yer holidays?" Hagrid asked.

"Just one," said Hermione. "And that reminds me – Harry, Charlotte, Ron, we've got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library."

"Oh yeah, you're right," said Ron, tearing his eyes away from Professor Flitwick, who had golden bubbles blossoming out of his wand and was trailing them out over the branches of the new tree.

"The library?" said Hagrid, following them out of the hall. "Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?"

"Oh, we're not working," Amanda told him brightly. "Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel we've been trying to find out who he is."

"You _what_?" Hagrid looked shocked. "Listen here – I've told yeh – drop it. It's nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'."

"We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all," said Charlotte.

"Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" Harry added. "We must've been through hundreds of books already and we can't find him anywhere – just give us a hint – I know I've read his name somewhere."

"I'm sayin' nothin'," said Hagrid flatly.

"Just have to find out for ourselves, then," said Ron, and they left Hagrid looking disgruntled and hurried off to the library.

They had indeed been searching books for Flamel's name ever since Hagrid had let it slip, because how else were they going to find out what Snape was trying to steal? The trouble was, it was very hard to know where to begin, not knowing what Flamel might have done to get himself into a book. He wasn't in _Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century_, or _Notable Magical Names of Our Time_; he was missing, too, from _Important Modern Magical Discoveries_, and _A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry_. And then, of course, there was the sheer size of the library; tens of thousands of books; thousands of shelves; hundreds of narrow rows.

Hermione took out a list of subjects and titles she had decided to search while Ron and Amanda strode off down a row of books and started pulling them off the shelves at random. Harry and Charlotte wandered over to the Restricted Section. They had been wondering for a while if Flamel was not somewhere in there. Unfortunately, you needed a specially signed note from one of the teachers to look in any of the restricted books, and he knew he would never get one. These were the books containing powerful Dark Magic never taught at Hogwarts, and only read by older students studying advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"What are you looking for, you two?"

"Nothing," said Harry.

Madam Pince the librarian brandished a feather duster at them.

"You'd better get out, then. Go on – out!"

Wishing she had been a bit quicker at thinking up some story, Charlotte left the library, with Harry in close pursuit. Charlotte, Harry, Ron, Amanda, and Hermione had already agreed they had better not ask Madam Pince where they could find Flamel. They were sure she would be able to tell them, but they could not risk Snape hearing what they were up to.

Charlotte and Harry waited outside in the corridor to see if the other three had found anything, but they were not very hopeful. They had been looking for two weeks, after all, but as they only had odd moments between lessons it was not surprising they had found nothing. What they really needed was a nice long search without Madam Pince breathing down their necks.

Five minutes later, Amanda, Ron and Hermione joined them, shaking their heads, they went off to lunch.

"We'll keep looking," said Amanda to Hermione. "And we'll send you an owl if we find anything."

"And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is," said Charlotte. "It'd be safe to ask them."

"Very safe, as they're both dentists," said Hermione.

/-/

Once the holidays had started, Harry, Amanda, Ron and Charlotte were having too good a time to think much about Flamel. They had the dormitory to themselves and the common room was far emptier than usual so they were able to get the good armchairs by the fire. They sat by the hour eating anything they could spear on a toasting fork – bread, English muffins, marshmallows – and plotting ways of getting Malfoy expelled, which were fun to talk about, even if they would not work.

Ron and Charlotte also started teaching Amanda and Harry wizard chess. This was exactly like Muggle chess except that the figures were alive, which made it a lot like directing troops into battle. Ron's set was very old and battered. Like everything else he owned it had once belonged to someone in his family – in this case, his grandfather. However, old chessmen were not a drawback at all. Ron knew them so well he never trouble getting them to do what he wanted.

Harry, Amanda, and Charlotte played with chessmen Seamus Finnigan had lent Harry, and they did not trust Harry or Amanda at all, though Charlotte was good and sweet enough to bargain with them. Amanda was not a very good player yet and they kept shouting different bits of advice at her, which was confusing. "Don't send me there, can't you see his knight? Send _him_, we can afford to lose _him_."

On Christmas Eve, Amanda went to bed in Neville's bed, Charlotte in Dean's, and Amanda was looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents at all. When she woke early in the morning, however, the first thing she saw was a small pile of packages at the foot of Neville's bed.

"Merry Christmas," said Ron sleepily, who had already begun opening his presents, as had Charlotte. Amanda and Harry scrambled out of bed and pulled on their bathrobes.

"You, too," said Harry. "Will you look at this? I've got some presents!"

"What did you expect, turnips?" said Charlotte, turning to her own pile, which was a lot bigger than either Harry's or Amanda's, but much smaller than Ron's.

Amanda picked up the top parcel. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it was To Amanda, from Hagrid. Inside was a roughly cut, poorly strung wooden lyre. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. Harry had a wood flute that was similarly crafted and he blew it – it sounded a bit like an owl.

A second, very small parcel contained a note.

_We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia_. Taped to the note was a fifty-pence piece. Harry had gotten an identical one.

"That's friendly," said Harry.

Ron was fascinated by the fifty pence.

"_Weird!_" he said, "What a shape! This is _money_?"

"You can keep it," said Harry, laughing at how pleased Ron was. "Hagrid and my aunt and uncle – so who sent these?"  
>"Oh, I got one like that too!" said Charlotte, pointing at a lumpy parcel, and holding one very like in in the other hand. Amanda had gotten one as well. She picked it up, noting that it was heavy.<p>

"Something soft," she muttered to herself.

"I think I know who those are from," said Ron, turning bit pink and pointing at the lumpy parcel in Charlotte's hand. "My mom. I told her you two didn't expect presents and – oh, no," he groaned, "she's made you Weasley sweaters."

Harry, Amanda, and Charlotte had torn open the parcels to find thick, hand-knitted sweaters, Harry's and Amanda's emerald green and Charlotte's a sapphire blue, and each had a large box of homemade fudge.

"Every year she makes us a sweater," said Ron, unwrapping his own, "and mine's _always_ maroon."

"That's really nice of her," said Harry, trying the fudge, which Amanda found was very tasty.

Her next present also contained candy – a large box of Chocolate frogs from Hermione.

This only left one parcel, and it was addressed to both Amanda and Harry, between his and Neville's beds. Amanda picked it up and felt it. It was very light. She unwrapped it.

Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds. Ron and Charlotte gasped.

"I've heard of those," Charlotte said in a hushed voice, dropping the box of Every Flavor Beans she had gotten from Hermione. "If that's what I think it is – they're really rare and _really_ valuable."

"What is it?" Amanda asked.

She picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material.

"It's an invisibility cloak," said Ron, a look of awe on his face. "I'm sure it is – try it on."

Amanda threw the cloak around her shoulders and Ron gave a yell.

"It _is_! Look down!"

Amanda looked down at her feet, but they were gone. She dashed to the mirror. Sure enough, her reflection looked back at her, just her head suspended in midair, her body completely invisible. She pulled the large cloak over her head and her reflection vanished completely.

"There's a note!" said Ron suddenly. "A note fell out of it!"

Amanda pulled off the cloak and seized the letter. Written in a narrow, loopy writing she had never seen before were the following words:

Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well.

A Very Merry Christmas to you.

There was no signature. Amanda stared at the note, and Harry read it over her shoulder. Ron and Charlotte were admiring the cloak.

"I'd give _anything_ for one of these," Charlotte said. "_Anything_. What's the matter?"

"Nothing," said Amanda. She felt very strange. Who had sent the cloak? Had it really once belonged to their father?

Before she could say or think anything else, the dormitory door was flung open and Fred and George Weasley bounded in. Amanda stuffed the cloak quickly out of sight. She did not feel like sharing it with anyone else yet.

"Merry Christmas!"

"Hey, look – Harry and Amanda and Charlotte've got Weasley sweaters, too!"

Fred and George were wearing blue sweaters, much like Charlotte's, one with a yellow F on it, the other a G.

"Theirs are better than ours, though," said Fred, holding up Charlotte's sweater. "She obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family."

"Why aren't you wearing yours, Ron?" George demanded. "Come on, get it on, they're lovely and warm."

"I hate maroon," Ron muttered and halfheartedly pulled it over his head.

"You haven't got a letter on yours," George observed. "I suppose she thinks you don't forget your name. But we're not stupid – we know we're called Gred and Forge."

"What's all this noise?"

Percy Weasley stuck his head through the door, looking disapproving. He had clearly gotten halfway through unwrapping resents as he, too, carried a lumpy sweater over his arm, which Fred seized.

"P for prefect! Get it on, Percy, come on, we're all wearing ours, even Harry and Charlotte got them."

"I – don't – want – " said Percy thickly, as the twins forced the sweater over his head, knocking his glasses askew.

"And you're not sitting with the prefects today, either," said George. "Christmas is a time for family."

They frog-marched Percy from the room, his arms pinned to his side by his sweater.

/-/

Charlotte had never in all her life had such a Christmas dinner, even with Drizza's fantastic efforts. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce – and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table. These fantastic party favors were nothing like the feeble Muggle ones Amanda had explained to her, with their little plastic toys and their flimsy paper hats inside. Charlotte pulled a wizard cracker with Fred to show Harry and Amanda that it did not just bang, it went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from inside exploded a rear admiral's hat and several live, white mice. Up at the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard's hat for a flowered bonnet, and was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him.

Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. Percy nearly broke his teeth on a silver sickle embedded in his slice. Charlotte watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to Charlotte's amazement, giggled and blushed, her top hat lopsided.

When Charlotte finally left the table, she was laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of non-explodable, luminous balloons, a Grow-Your-Own-Warts kit, and her own new wizard chess set. The white mice had disappeared and Charlotte had the nasty feeling they were going to end up as Mrs. Norris's Christmas dinner.

Charlotte, Amanda, Harry and the Weasleys spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight on the grounds. Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, they returned to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, where Charlotte broke in her new chess set by losing spectacularly to Ron. She suspected she would not have lost so badly if Percy had not tried to help her so much.

After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, everyone felt too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch Percy chase Fred and George all over Gryffindor tower because they had stolen his prefect badge.

It had been Charlotte, Amanda, and Harry's best Christmas day ever. Yet she could tell something had been nagging at the back of Harry's mind all day. Not until they clambered into bed was she free to think about what it must be: the invisibility cloak and whoever had sent it.

Ron, full of turkey and cake and with nothing mysterious to bother him, fell asleep almost as soon as he had drawn the curtains of his four-poster. Harry leaned over the side of his own bed and pulled the cloak out from under it. Charlotte and Amanda, who had decided to sleep in Dean's and Neville's beds again for the night, tired of being by themselves, sat up and watched him.

Their father's… this had been their father's, Amanda had said. He let the material flow over his hands. Charlotte wondered if her mother had ever known about the cloak. Drizza had said they were close friends. _Use it well_, the note had said.

They had to try it, now. Harry slipped out of bed and wrapped the cloak around himself. Looking down at where his legs were, Charlotte saw only moonlight and shadows. It was a very funny thing.

_Use it well_.

Suddenly, Harry looked wide-awake. The whole of Hogwarts was open to him in this cloak. Excitement flooded through them both as they stared at each other in the dark and silence. He could go anywhere in this, anywhere, and Filch would never know.

Ron grunted in his sleep. Should they wake him? Something held both of them back – their father's cloak – the three seemed to think that this time – the first time – they ought to use it alone.

Amanda slipped under the cloak and the twins crept out of the dormitory. Charlotte turned over, staring out the window at the stars and wondering what adventures they were about to have.


	17. Nicolas Flamel

Harry and Amanda crept down the stairs, across the common room, and climbed through the portrait hole.

"Who's there?" squawked the Fat Lady. The twins said nothing. They walked quickly down the corridor.

Where should they go? Amanda stopped, causing her brother to stop beside her, her heart racing, and she thought. And then it came to her. The Restricted Section in the library. They would be able to read as long as they liked, as long as it took to find out who Flamel was. She set off, Harry with her, drawing the invisibility cloak tight around them as they walked.

The library was pitch-black was very eerie. Harry lit a lamp to see their way along the rows of books. The lamp looked as if it was floating along in midair, and even though Amanda could look under the cloak and see his arm supporting it, the sight of looking through it and down at the seeming blank space of air gave her the creeps.

The Restricted Section was right at the back of the library. Stepping carefully over the rope that separated these books from the rest of the library, he held up his lamp to read the titles.

They did not tell the Potters much. Their peeling, faded gold letters spelled words in languages Amanda could not understand. Some had no title at all. One book had a dark stain on it that looked horribly like blood. The hairs on the back of Amanda's neck prickled. Maybe she was imagining it, maybe not, but she thought a faint whispering was coming from the books, as though they knew someone was there who should not be.

They had to start somewhere. Amanda looked along the bottom shelf for an interesting-looking book. A large black and silver volume caught her eye. She pulled it out with difficulty, because it was very heavy, and, balancing it on her knee, let it fall open.

A piercing, bloodcurdling shriek split the silence – the book was screaming! Amanda snapped it shut, but the shriek went on and on, one high, unbroken, earsplitting note. She stumbled backward and knocked over their lamp, which went out at once. Panicking, she heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside – stuffing the shrieking book back on the shelf, she and Harry ran for it. They passed Filch in the doorway; Filch's pale, wild eyes looked straight through them, and the Potter twins slipped under Filch's outstretched arm and streaked off up the corridor, the book's shrieks still ringing in their ears.

She pulled Harry to a sudden halt in front of a tall suit of armor. They had been so busy getting away from the library they had not paid attention to where they were going. Perhaps because it was dark, she did not recognize where they were at all. There was suit of armor near the kitchens, she knew, but they must be five floors above there.

"You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library – Restricted Section."

Amanda felt the blood drain out of her face. Wherever they were, Filch must know a shortcut, because his soft, greasy voice was getting nearer, and to her horror, it was Snape who replied, "The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them."

Harry and Amanda stood rooted to the spot as Filch and Snape came around the corner ahead. They could not see the twins, of course, but it was a narrow corridor and if they came much nearer they would knock right into both of them – the cloak did not stop them from being solid.

They backed away as quietly as they could. A door stood ajar to their left. It was their only hope. Amanda squeezed through it, holding her breath, trying not to move it, and to her relief she managed to get inside the room without their noticing anything, and Harry as well right after her. They walked straight past, and the pair leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, listening to their footsteps dying away. That had been close, very close. It was a few seconds before she noticed anything about the room they had hidden in.

It looked like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket – but propped against the wall facing them was something that did not look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way.

It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube carfu oyt on whosi_.

Her panic fading now that there was no sound of Filch and Snape, Amanda moved nearer to the mirror, wanting to look at herself but see no reflection again. She stepped in front of it.

Harry had to clap his hands to her mouth to stop her from screaming. They whirled around. Her heart was pounding far more furiously than when the book had screamed – for she had seen not only herself and Harry in the mirror, but a whole crowd of people standing right behind them.

But the room was empty. Breathing very fast, she turned slowly back to the mirror.

There they were, reflected in it, white and scared-looking, and there, reflected behind them, were at least ten others. Amanda looked over her shoulder – but still, no one was there. Or were they all invisible, too? Were they in fact in a room full of invisible people and that this mirror's trick was that it reflected them, invisible or not?

She looked in the mirror again. A woman standing right behind Harry's reflection was smiling at them and waving. She reached out a hand and felt the air behind him. If the woman was really there, Amanda would touch her, their reflections were so close together, but she felt only air – the woman and the others existed only in the mirror.

She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair and her eyes – her eyes are just like Harry's, Amanda thought, edging a little closer to the glass. Bright green – exactly the same shape, but then she noticed that the woman was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wore glasses, and his hair was very untidy. It stuck up at the back, just as Harry's did.

Harry was so close to the mirror now that his nose was nearly touching that of his reflection.

"Mom?" he whispered. "Dad?"

They just looked at him, smiling. And slowly, Amanda looked into the faces of the other people in the mirror, and saw other pairs of green eyes like Harry's, other noses like hers, even a little old man who looked as though he had Harry's knobbly knees – Harry and Amanda were looking at their family, for the first time in their lives.

The Potters smiled and waved at Amanda and Harry and the twins stared hungrily back at them, Harry's hands pressed flat against the glass as though he was hoping to fall right through it and reach them. Amanda had a powerful kind of ache inside her, half joy, half terrible sadness.

How long they stood there, she did not know. The reflections did not fade and they looked and looked until a distant noise brought them back to their senses. They could not stay here, they had to find their way back to bed. Harry tore his eyes away from their mother's face, whispered, "We'll come back," and the twins hurried from the room.

/-/

"You could have woken me up," said Ron, crossly.

"You can come tonight, we're going back, I want to show you the mirror," Amanda pointed out.

"I'd like to see your mom and dad," Charlotte said eagerly.

"And I want to see all your families, all the Weasleys and Cromwells. You'll be able to show me your other brothers and everyone, Ron," Harry agreed.

"You can see them any old time," said Ron. "Just come around the house this summer. The twins already got Charlotte an invitation. Shame about not finding Flamel, though. Have some bacon or something, why aren't you eating anything?"

Harry could not eat, it seemed. He had seen his parents and would be seeing them again tonight. He had almost forgotten about Flamel. It did not seem to be very important to him anymore. Charlotte felt she could almost read his mind. Who cared what the three-headed dog was guarding? What did it matter if Snape stole it, really? She frowned, worried.

"Are you all right?" said Ron. "You look odd."

/-/

What Amanda feared most was that they might not be able to find the mirror room again. With Ron and Charlotte covered in the cloak, too, they had to walk much more slowly the next night. They tried retracing Harry's and Amanda's route from the library, wandering around the dark passageways for nearly an hour.

"I'm freezing," said Charlotte. "Let's just forget it and go back."

"_No!_" Amanda hissed. "I'm sure it's here somewhere."

They passed the ghost of a tall witch gliding in the opposite direction, but saw no one else. Just as Ron started moaning that his feet were dead with cold, Harry spotted the suit of armor.

"It's here – just here – yes!"

They pushed the door open. Amanda dropped the cloak from around her shoulders and ran to the mirror.

There they were. Her mother and father beamed at the sight of her.

"See?" Harry whispered, coming up to stand beside her.

"I can't see anything," said Ron.

"Look! Look at them all… there are loads of them…." Amanda said longingly

"I can only see you," said Charlotte.

"Here, stand here and look in it properly," said Harry. They moved and Charlotte gasped.

"Merlin's beard. It's my dad." Her face lit up with joy and her eyes shone with tears. "I've no idea who he is, I've never seen him before, but he's right there, as if he's standing behind me." She smiled up at Amanda with glistening eyes. She understood.

Charlotte stepped aside to let Ron look. Ron was staring transfixed at his image.

"Look at me!"

"Can you see all your family standing around you?"

Charlotte frowned. "I only saw my dad. And I can't even tell you how I knew it was him, I just know."

"No – I'm alone – but I'm different – I look older – and I'm head boy!"

"_What?_" Amanda gasped.

"You're joking," Harry said softly.

"I am – I'm wearing the badge like Bill used to – and I'm holding the house cup and the Quidditch cup – I'm Quidditch captain, too!"

Ron tore his eyes away from this splendid sight to look excitedly at Harry and Charlotte.

"Do you think this mirror shows the future?"

Charlotte shook her head. "How can it? All the people we saw are dead – let Amanda and Harry have another look – "

"We had it to ourselves all last night, give Ron a bit more time," Amanda said.

"You're only holding the Quidditch cup, what's interesting about that? I want to see my parents," Harry snapped.

"Don't push me – "

A sudden noise outside in the corridor put an end to their discussion. They had not realized how loudly they had been talking.

"Quick!"

Ron threw the cloak back over them as the luminous eyes of Mrs. Norris came round the door. Ron, Harry, Amanda, and Charlotte stood quite still, each thinking the same thing – did the cloak work on cats? After what seemed an age, she turned and left.

"This isn't safe – she might have gone for Filch, I bet she heard us. Come on," Charlotte whispered.

And Ron and Charlotte pulled Harry and Amanda out of the room.

/-/

The snow still had not melted the next morning.

"Want to play chess, Harry?" said Charlotte.

"No."

"Why don't we go down and visit Hagrid?" asked Ron.

Harry shook his head. "No… you go…"

"I know what you two are thinking about, that mirror. Don't go back tonight," Charlotte insisted.

"Why not?" Amanda asked.

Harry echoed his sister. "We've got the cloak."

"I dunno, I've just got a bad feeling about it – and anyway, you've had too many close shaves already. Filch, Snape, and Mrs. Norris are wandering around. So what if they can't see you? What if they walk into you? What if you knock something over?" Ron asked.

"You sound like Hermione," scoffed Harry.

"I think he means it," Charlotte said softly.

"You'll not stop us will you, Charlotte?" Amanda asked softly, but her friend hesitated, looking to the other non-Potter.

Ron nodded. "I'm serious, guys, don't go."

But Charlotte looked at Harry and Amanda and knew they were thinking the same thing. They only had one thought in their head, which was to go back in front of the mirror, and Ron was not going to stop them.

/-/

The third night they found their way more quickly than before, although they had Charlotte with them. They were walking so fast Amanda knew they were making more noise than was wise, but they did not meet anyone.

And there were her mother and father smiling at her again, and one of her grandfathers nodding happily. Amanda knew Charlotte could see her father. They found a position where the three of them could look together and sank down to sit on the floor in front of the mirror. There was nothing to stop them from staying here all night with their families. Nothing at all.

Except –

"So – back again, Harry, Amanda, Charlotte?"

Amanda felt as though her insides had turned to ice. They turned to look behind them. Sitting on one of the desks by the wall was none other than Albus Dumbledore. Amanda must have walked straight past him, so desperate to get to the mirror she had not noticed him. "I – I did not see you, sir," Harry said softly.

"Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you," said Dumbledore, and Amanda was relieved to see that he was smiling.

"So," said Dumbledore, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor with Amanda, Harry, and Charlotte, "you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."

Harry said, "I didn't know it was called that, sir."

"But I expect you've realized by now what it does?"

"It – well – it shows Amanda and me our family – and Charlotte her dad – "

"And it showed your friend Ron himself as head boy."

"How did you know – ?" Charlotte began.

"I don't need a cloak to become invisible," said Dumbledore gently. "Now, can you think of what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?"

Harry, Amanda, and Charlotte shook their heads.

"Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?"

Harry, Amanda, and Charlotte thought. Then Amanda said slowly, "It shows us what we want… whatever we want…"

"Yes and no," said Dumbledore quietly. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, Harry and Amanda, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. You, Charlotte, who do not know your father, see him beside you. Ronald Weasley, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of all of them. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge nor truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible.

"The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?"

Amanda, Harry, and Charlotte stood up.

"Sir – Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?" Harry asked.

"Obviously, you've just done so," Dumbledore smiled. "You may ask me one more thing, however."

"What do you see when you look in the mirror?"

"I? I see myself holding a pair of think, woolen socks."

Harry, Amanda, and Charlotte stared.

"One can never have enough socks," said Dumbledore. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."

It was only when they were back in bed that it struck Amanda that Dumbledore might not have been quite truthful. But then, she thought, as she shoved Scabbers off her pillow, it had been quite a personal question.

/-/

Dumbledore had convinced Harry, Amanda, and Charlotte not to go looking for the Mirror of Erised again, and for the rest of the Christmas holidays the invisibility cloak stayed folded at the bottom of Harry's trunk. Charlotte wished she could forget what she had seen in the mirror as easily, but she could not. She started having nightmares. Over and over again he dreamed about her father being dragged away in chains, his voice crazed as he cackled with laughter.

"You see, Dumbledore was right, that mirror could drive you mad," said Amanda, when Charlotte told her, Harry, and Ron about these dreams.

Hermione, who came back the day before term started, took a different view of things. She was torn between horror at the idea of Charlotte, Harry, and Amanda being out of bed, roaming the school three nights in a row ("If Filch had caught you!") and the disappointment that he had not at least found out who Nicolas Flamel was.

They had almost given up hope of ever finding Flamel in a library book, even though Harry was still sure he had read the name somewhere. Once term had started, they were back to the skimming through books for ten minutes during their breaks. Harry, Amanda, and Charlotte had even less time than the other two, because Quidditch practice had started again.

Wood was working the team harder than ever. Even the endless rain that had replaced the snow could not dampen his spirits. The Weasleys complained that Wood was becoming a fanatic, but Charlotte was on Wood's side. If they won their next match, against Hufflepuff, they would overtake Slytherin in the house championship for the first time in seven years. Quite apart from wanting to win, Charlotte found that she had fewer nightmares when she was tired out after training.

Then, during one particularly wet muddy practice session, Wood gave the team a bit of bad news. He'd just gotten very angry with the Weasleys, who kept dive-bombing each other and pretending to fall off their brooms.

"Will you stop messing around!" he yelled. "That's exactly the sort of thing that'll lose us the match! Snape's refereeing this time, he'll be looking for any excuse to knock points off Gryffindor!"

George Weasley really did fall off his broom at these words.

"_Snape's_ refereeing?" he spluttered through a mouthful of mud. "When's he ever refereed a Quidditch match? He's not going to be fair if we might overtake Slytherin."

The rest of the team landed next to George to complain, too.

"It's not my fault," said Wood. "We've just got to make sure we play a clean game, so Snape hasn't got an excuse to pick on us."

Which was all very well, thought Charlotte, but Harry had another reason for not wanting Snape near him while he was playing Quidditch….

The rest of the team hung back to talk to one another as usual at the end of practice, but Harry, Amanda, and Charlotte headed straight back to the Gryffindor common room, where he found Ron and Hermione playing chess. Chess was the only thing Hermione ever lost at, something Harry, Ron, Amanda, and Charlotte thought was very good for her.

"Don't talk to me for a moment," said Ron when Harry and Charlotte sat down next to him, "I need to concen – " He caught sight of their faces. "What's the matter with you? You look terrible."

Speaking quietly so that no one else would hear, Harry told the other two about Snape's sudden, sinister desire to be a Quidditch referee.

"Don't play," said Charlotte at once.

"Say you're ill," said Ron.

"Pretend to break your leg," Charlotte suggested.

"_Really_ break your leg," said Amanda.

"I can't," said Harry. "There isn't a reserve Seeker, even you and Charlotte can't do it. If I back out, Gryffindor can't play at all."

At that moment, Neville toppled into the common room. How he had managed to climb through the portrait hole was anyone's guess, because his legs had been stuck together with what they recognized at once as the Leg-Locker Curse. He must have had to bunny hop all the way to Gryffindor tower.

Everyone fell over laughing except Hermione, who leapt up and performed the countercurse. Neville's legs sprang apart and he got to his feet, trembling.

"What happened?" Harry asked him as Hermione led him over to sit with them.

"Malfoy," said Neville shakily. "I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on."

"Go to Professor McGonagall!" Hermione urged Neville. "Report him!"

Neville shook his head.

"I don't want more trouble," he mumbled.

"You've got to stand up to him, Neville!" said Charlotte. "He's used to walking all over people, but that's no reason to lie down in front of him and make it easier."

"There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Malfoy's already done that," Neville choked out.

Charlotte felt in the pocket of her robes and pulled out a Chocolate Frog, the very last one from the box Hermione had given her for Christmas. She gave it to Neville, who looked as though he might cry.

"You're worth twelve of Malfoy," Amanda said. "The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin."

Neville's lips twitched in a weak smile as he unwrapped the frog.

"Thanks, Amanda, Charlotte… I think I'll go to bed…. D'you want the card, you collect them, don't you?"

As Neville walked away, Harry looked at the Famous Wizard card.

"Dumbledore again," Harry said, "He was the first one we ever – "

He gasped. He stared at the back of the card, and Amanda looked over his shoulder, then she gasped, too. Then they both looked up at Charlotte, Ron, and Hermione.

"_I've found him!_" he whispered. "I've found Flamel. I told you I'd read the name somewhere before, I read it on the train coming here – listen to this: 'Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, _and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel_'!"

Hermione jumped to her feet. She had not looked so excited since they had gotten back the marks for their very first piece of homework.

"Stay there!" she said, and she sprinted up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. Harry, Amanda, Charlotte, and Ron barely had time to exchange mystified looks before she was dashing back, an enormous old book in her arms.

"I never thought to look in here!" Charlotte whispered excitedly when she saw the book. "She got this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading."

"_Amanda?_" said Amanda, but Hermione told her to be quiet until she had looked something up, and started flicking frantically through the pages, muttering to herself.

At last she found what she was looking for.

"I knew it! I _knew_ it!"

"Are we allowed to speak yet?" said Ron grumpily. Hermione ignored him.

"Nicolas Flamel," she whispered dramatically, "is the _only known maker of the Sorcerer's Stone_!"

Charlotte said, "Oh, of course!" Otherwise, this did not have quite the effect she had expected.

"The what?" said Amanda, Harry, and Ron.

"Oh, _honestly_, don't you three read? Look – read that, there," Hermione said.

She pushed the book toward them, and Amanda, Harry, and Ron read:

_The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with the making Sorcerer's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal._

_ There have been many reports of the Sorcerer's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight)._

"See?" said Hermione when they had finished. "The dog must be guarding Flamel's Sorcerer's Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it, that's why he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts!"

"A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!" said Charlotte. "No wonder Snape's after it! _Anyone_ would want it."

"And no wonder we couldn't find Flamel in that _Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry_," said Amanda. "He's not exactly recent if he's six hundred and sixty-five, is he?"


	18. Dragons

The next morning in Defense Against the Dark Arts, while copying down different ways of treating werewolf bites, Charlotte, Amanda, Harry and Ron were still discussing what they would do with a Sorcerer's Stone if they had one. It was not until Ron said he would buy his own Quidditch team that Amanda, Charlotte, and Harry remembered about Snape and the coming match.

"I'm going to play," Harry told Charlotte, Ron, Amanda and Hermione. "If I don't, all the Slytherins will think I'm just too scared to face Snape. I'll show them… it'll really wipe the smiles off their faces if we win."

"Just as long as we're not wiping you off the field," said Hermione.

/-/

As the match drew nearer, however, Harry became more and more nervous, whatever he told the others. Charlotte could see it on his face. The rest of the team was not too calm, either. The idea of overtaking Slytherin in the house championship was wonderful, no one had done it for seven years, but would they be allowed to, with such a biased referee?

Charlotte did not know whether she was imagining it or not, but she seemed to keep running into Snape wherever she went. At times, she even wondered whether Snape was following her, trying to catch her on her own. Potions lessons were turning into a sort of weekly torture, Snape was so horrible to Harry, Amanda, and Charlotte. Could Snape possibly know they had found out about the Sorcerer's Stone? Charlotte did not see how he could, yet she sometimes had the horrible feeling that Snape could read minds.

/-/

Amanda knew, when they wished her, Charlotte, and Harry good luck outside the locker rooms the next afternoon, that Ron and Hermione were wondering whether they would ever see Harry alive again. This was not what you would call comforting. Amanda hardly heard a word of Wood's pep talk as she pulled on her Quidditch robes and picked up her Nimbus Two Thousand.

Ron and Hermione, meanwhile, had found a place in the stands next to Neville, who could not understand why they looked so grim and worried, or why they both had their wands to the match. Little did Amanda, Harry, and Charlotte know that Ron and Hermione had been secretly practicing the Leg-Locker Curse. They had gotten the idea from Malfoy using it on Neville, and were ready to use it on Snape if he showed any sign of wanting to hurt Harry.

"Now, don't forget, it's _Locomotor Mortis_," Hermione muttered as Ron slipped his wand up his sleeve.

"I _know_," Ron snapped. "Don't nag."

Back in the locker room, Wood had taken Harry aside, and Charlotte listened carefully.

"Don't want to pressure you, Potter, but if we ever need an early capture of the Snitch, it's now. Finish the game before Snape can favor Hufflepuff too much."

"The whole school's out there!" cried Fred Weasley, peering out the door. "Even – blimey – Dumbledore's come to watch!"

Amanda's heart did a somersault.

"_Dumbledore?_" Charlotte said, dashing to the door behind Amanda to make sure. Fred was right. There was no mistaking that silver beard.

Amanda could have laughed out loud with relief. Harry was safe. There was simply no way that Snape would dare try to hurt him if Dumbledore was watching, and Harry seemed a bit more relaxed, as well.

Perhaps that was why Snape was looking so angry as the teams marched onto the field.

"Good luck," Amanda whispered to Harry before she took her place beside Charlotte on the bench.

Ron also noticed Snape's anger.

"I've never seen Snape look so mean," he told Hermione. "Look – they're off. Ouch!"

Someone had poked Ron in the back of the head. It was Malfoy.

"Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn't see you there."

Malfoy grinned broadly at Crabbe and Goyle.

"Wonder how long Potter's going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?"

Ron didn't answer; Snape had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because George Weasley had hit a Bludger at him. Hermione, who had all her fingers crossed in her lap, was squinting fixedly at Harry, who was circling the game like a hawk, looking for the Snitch.

"You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?" said Malfoy loudly a few minutes later, as Snape awarded Hufflepuff another penalty for no reason at all. "It's people they feel sorry for. See, there's Potter and Potter and Cromwell who've got no parents, then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money – you should be on the team, Longbottom, you've got no brains."

Neville went bright red but turned in his seat to face Malfoy.

"I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy," he stammered.

Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle howled with laughter, but Ron, still not daring to take his eyes from the game said, "You tell him, Neville."

"Longbottom, if brains were gold you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's saying something."

Ron's nerves were already stretched to the breaking point with anxiety about Harry.

"I'm warning you, Malfoy – one more word – "

"Ron!" said Hermione suddenly, "Harry – !"

"What? Where?"

Harry had suddenly gone into a spectacular dive, which drew gasps and cheers from the crowd. Hermione stood up, her crossed fingers in her mouth, as Harry streaked toward the ground like a bullet.

"You're in luck, Weasley, Potter's obviously spotted some money on the ground!" said Malfoy.

Ron snapped. Before Malfoy knew what was happening, Ron was on top of him, wrestling him to the ground. Neville hesitated, then clambered over the back of his seat to help.

"Come on, Harry!" Hermione screamed, leaping onto her seat to watch as Harry sped straight at Snape – she did not even notice Malfoy and Ron rolling around under her seat, or the scuffles and yelps coming from the whirl of fists that was Neville, Crabbe and Goyle.

Up in the air, Snape turned on his broomstick just in time to see something scarlet shoot past him, missing him by inches – the next second, Harry had pulled out of the dive, his arm raised in triumph, the Snitch clasped in his hand.

Charlotte and Amanda were jumping up and down on the bench, screaming at the top of their lungs, at first just piercing noise, and then Charlotte produced the words: "Bloody hell, he did it! Yeah, Harry!"

The stands erupted; it had to be a record, no one could ever remember the Snitch being caught so quickly.

"Ron! Ron! Where are you? The game's over! Harry's won! We've won! Gryffindor is in the lead!" shrieked Hermione, dancing up and down on her seat and hugging Parvati Patil in the row in front.

Harry jumped off his broom, a foot from the ground to be greeted by a vigorous hug from Charlotte and Amanda. She could not believe it. He had done it – the game was over; it had barely lasted five minutes. Harry looked equally stunned. As Gryffindors came spilling onto the field, she saw Snape land nearby, white-faced and tight-lipped – then she saw a hand on Harry's shoulder and they looked up into Dumbledore's smiling face.

"Well done," said Dumbledore quietly, so that only Amanda, Charlotte, and Harry could hear. "Nice to see you three haven't been brooding about that mirror… been keeping busy… excellent…"

Snape spat bitterly on the ground.

/-/

Charlotte left the locker room with Harry and Amanda some time later, to take their Nimbus Two Thousands back in the broomshed. She could not ever remember feeling happier. Harry had really done something to be proud of now – no one could say he was just a famous name any more. The evening air had never smelled so sweet. They walked over the damp grass, Charlotte reliving the last hour in her head, which was a happy blur: Gryffindors running to lift him onto their shoulders; Ron and Hermione in the distance, jumping up and down, Ron cheering through a heavy nosebleed.

Harry, Amanda, and Charlotte had reached the shed. She leaned against the wooden door and looked up at Hogwarts, with its windows glowing red in the setting sun. Gryffindor in the lead. He had done it, he had shown Snape….

And speaking of Snape…

A hooded figure came swiftly down the front steps of the castle. Clearly not wanting to be seen, it walked as fast as possible toward the forbidden forest. Harry's victory faded from Charlotte's mind as she, Amanda, and Harry watched. She recognized the figure's prowling walk. Snape, sneaking into the forest while everyone else was at dinner – what was going on?

Harry, Amanda, and Charlotte jumped back on their Nimbus Two Thousands and took off. Gliding silently over the castle, they saw Snape enter the forest at a run. They followed.

The trees were so think he could not see where Snape had gone. They flew in circles, lower and lower, brushing the top branches of the trees until they heard voices. They glided toward them and landed noiselessly in a towering beech tree.

They climbed carefully along the branches, holding tight to their broomsticks, trying to see through the leaves.

Below, in a shadowy clearing, stood Snape, but he was not alone. Quirrell was there, too. Harry could not make out the look on his face, but he was stuttering worse than ever. Harry strained to catch what they were saying.

"… d-don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus…"

"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private," said Snape, his voice icy. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Sorcerer's Stone, after all."

Harry, Amanda, and Charlotte leaned forward. Quirrell was mumbling something. Snape interrupted him.

"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?"

"B-b-but Severus, I – "

"Very well," Snape cut in. "We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie."

He threw his cloak over his head and strode out of the clearing. It was almost dark now, but Charlotte could see Quirrell, standing quite still as though he was petrified.

/-/

"Amanda, Harry, Charlotte, where have you _been_?" Hermione squeaked.

"We won! You won! We won!" shouted Ron, thumping Harry on the back. "And I gave Malfoy a black eye, and Neville tried to take on Crabbe and Goyle single-handed! He's still out cold but Madam Pomfrey says he'll be all right – talk about showing Slytherin! Everyone's waiting for you in the common room, we're having a party, Fred and George stole some cakes and stuff from the kitchens."

"Never mind that now," said Harry breathlessly. "Let's find an empty room, you wait 'til you hear this…."

Amanda made sure Peeves was not inside before shutting the door behind them, then Charlotte told them what they had seen and heard.

"So we were right, it _is_ the Sorcerer's Stone, and Snape's trying to force Quirrell to help him get it. He asked if he knew how to get past Fluffy – and said he something about Quirrell's 'hocus-pocus' – I reckon there are other things guarding the stone apart from Fluffy, loads of enchantments, probably, and Quirrell would have done some anti-Dark Arts spell that Snape needs to break through – "

"So you mean the Stone's only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape?" said Amanda in alarm as she had a chance to reflect what had happened.

"It'll be gone by next Tuesday," said Ron.

/-/

Quirrell, however, must have been braver than they had thought. In the weeks that followed he did seem to be getting paler and thinner, but it did not look as though he had cracked yet.

Every time they passed the third-floor corridor, Amanda, Charlotte, Harry, Ron and Hermione would press their ears to the door to check that Fluffy was still growling inside. Snape was sweeping about in his usual bad temper, which surely meant that the Stone was still safe. Whenever Charlotte passed Quirrell these days she gave him an encouraging sort of smile, and Ron had started telling people off for laughing at Quirrell's stutter.

Hermione, however, had more on her mind than the Sorcerer's Stone. She had started drawing up study schedules and color-coding all her notes. Charlotte, Harry, Amanda, and Ron would not have minded, but she kept nagging them to do the same.

"Hermione, the exams are ages away," reasoned Ron.

"Ten weeks," Hermione snapped. "That's not ages, that's like a second to Nicolas Flamel."

"But we're not six hundred years old," Amanda reminded her. "Anyway, what are you studying for, you already know it all."

"What is she studying for? Are you crazy? You realize we need to pass these exams to get into the second year? They're very important, I should have started studying a month ago, I don't know what's gotten into me…." Charlotte began muttering more to herself at the end.

Unfortunately, the teachers seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Hermione. They piled so much homework on them that the Easter holidays were not nearly as much fun as the Christmas ones. It was hard to relax with Hermione next to you reciting the twelve uses of dragon's blood or practicing wand movements. Moaning and yawning, Charlotte, Harry, Amanda, and Ron spent most of their free time in the library with her, trying to get through all their extra work.

"I'll never remember this," Ron burst out one afternoon, throwing her quill down and looking longingly out of the library window. It was the first really fine day they had had in months. The sky was a clear, forget-me-not blue, and there was a feeling in the air of summer coming.

Charlotte, who was looking up "Dittany" in _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_, did not look up until she heard Ron say, "Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?"

Hagrid shuffled into view, hiding something behind his back. He looked very out of place in his moleskin overcoat.

"Jus' lookin'," he said, in a shifty voice that got their interest at once. "An' what're you lot up ter?" He looked suddenly suspicious. "Yer not still lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?"

"Oh, we found out who he is ages ago," said Ron impressively, "_And_ we know what the dog's guarding, it's a Sorcerer's St – "

"_Shhhh!_" Hagrid looked around quickly to see if anyone was listening. "Don' go shoutin' about it, what's the matter with yeh?"

"There are a few things we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact," said Charlotte, "about what's guarding the Stone apart from Fluffy – "

"SHHHH!" said Hagrid again. "Listen – come an' see me later, I'm not promisin' I'll tell yeh anythin', mind, but don' go rabbitin' about it in here, students aren' s'pposed ter know. They'll think I've told yeh – "

"See you later, then," said Amanda.

Hagrid shuffled off.

"What was he hiding behind his back?" said Hermione thoughtfully.

"Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?" asked Harry.

"I'm going to see what section he was in," said Ron, who had had enough of working. He came back a minute later with a pile of books in his arms and slammed them down on the table.

"_Dragons!_" Charlotte whispered. "Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons! Look at these: _Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland_; _From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide_."

"Hagrid's always wanted a dragon, he told us so the first time we ever met him," said Amanda.

"But it's against our laws," said Ron. "Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709, everyone knows that. It's hard to stop Muggles from noticing us if we're keeping dragons in the back garden – anyway, you can't tame dragons, it's dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie's got off wild ones in Romania."

"But there aren't wild dragons in _Britain_?" said Harry.

"Of course there are," said Ron. "Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I can tell you. Our kind have to keep putting spells on Muggles who've spotted them, to make them forget."

"So what on earth's Hagrid up to?" said Charlotte.

/-/

When they knocked on the door of the gamekeeper's hut an hour later, they were surprised to see that all the curtains were closed. Hagrid called "Who is it?" before he let them in, and then shut the door quickly behind them.

It was stifling hot inside. Even though it was such a warm day, there was a blazing fire in the grate. Hagrid made them tea and offered them some stoat sandwiches, which they refused.

"So – yeh wanted to ask me somethin'?"

"Yes," said Amanda. There was no point beating around the bush. "We were wondering if you could tell us what's guarding the Sorcerer's Stone apart from Fluffy."

Hagrid frowned at her.

"O' course I can't," he said. "Number one, I don' know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn' tell yeh if I could. That Stone's here fer a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringotts – I s'ppose yeh've worked that out an' all? Beats me how yeh even know abou' Fluffy."

"Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might not want to tell us, but you _do_ know, you know everything that goes on around here," said Hermione in a warm, flattering voice. Hagrid's beard twitched and they could tell he was smiling. "We only wondered who had _done_ the guarding, really." Hermione went on. "We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you."

Hagrid's chest swelled at these last words. Harry, Charlotte, Amanda, and Ron beamed at Hermione.

"Well, I don' s'ppose it could hurt ter tell yeh that… let's see… he borrowed Fluffy from me… then some o' the teachers did enchantments… Professor Sprout – Professor Flitwick – Professor McGonagall – " he ticked them off on his fingers, "Professor Quirrell – an' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Snape."

"_Snape?_" Harry marveled.

"Yeah – yer not still on abou' that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped _protect_ the Stone, he's not about ter steal it."

Amanda knew Charlotte, Ron, Harry, and Hermione were thinking the same as she was. If Snape had been in on protecting the Stone, it must have been easy to find out how the other teachers had guarded it. He probably knew everything, except, it seemed, Quirrell's spell and how to get past Fluffy.

"You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy, aren't you, Hagrid?" said Harry anxiously. "And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?"

"Not a soul knows except me an' Dumbledore," said Hagrid proudly.

"Well, that's something," Charlotte muttered to the others. "Hagrid, can we have a window open? I'm boiling."

"Can't, Harry, sorry," said Hagrid. Amanda noticed him glance at the fire. Amanda looked at it, too.

"Hagrid – what's _that_?"

But she already knew what it was. In the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, was a huge, black egg.

"Ah," said Hagrid, fiddling nervously with his beard, "That's – er…"

"Where did you get it, Hagrid?" said Ron, crouching over the fire to get a closer look at the egg. "It must've cost you a fortune."

"Won it," said Hagrid. "Las' night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter be rid of it, ter be honest."

"But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?" said Hermione.

"Well, I've been doin' some readin'," said Hagrid, pulling a large book from under his pillow. "Got this outta the library – Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit – it's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breath on 'em, see, an' when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An' see here – how ter recognize the diff'rent eggs – what I've got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them."

He looked very pleased with himself, but Hermione did not.

"Hagrid, you live in a _wooden house_," she said.

But Hagrid was not listening. He was humming merrily as he stoked the fire.


	19. Trouble, Trouble, Trouble

So now they had something else to worry about: what might happen to Hagrid if anyone found out he was hiding an illegal dragon in his hut.

"Wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life," Ron sighed, as evening after evening they struggled through all the extra homework they were getting. Hermione had now started making study schedules for Charlotte, Amanda, Harry, and Ron, too. It was driving them nuts.

Then, one breakfast time, Hedwig brought Harry, Amanda, and Charlotte another note from Hagrid. He had written only two words: _It's hatching_.

Ron wanted to skip Herbology and go straight down to the hut. Charlotte would not hear of it.

"Charlotte," he reasoned, "how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?"

"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing – "

"Shut up!" Amanda whispered.

Malfoy was only a few feet away and he had stopped dead to listen. How much had he heard? Amanda did not like the look on Malfoy's face at all.

Ron and Charlotte argued all the way to Herbology and in the end, Charlotte and Hermione agreed to run down to Hagrid's with the other three during morning break. When the bell sounded from the castle at the end of their lesson, the five of them dropped their trowels at once and hurried through the grounds to the edge of the forest, Hagrid greeted them, looking flushed and excited.

"It's nearly out."

He ushered the inside.

The egg was lying on the table. There were deep cracks in it. Something was moving inside; a funny clicking noise was coming from it.

They all drew their chairs up to the table and watched with bated breath.

All at once there was a scraping noise and the egg split open. The baby dragon flopped onto the table. It was not exactly pretty; Amanda thought it looked like a crumpled, black umbrella. Its spiny wings were huge compared to its skinny jet body; it had a long snout with wide nostrils, the stubs of horns and bulging, orange eyes.

It sneezed. A couple of sparks flew out of its snout.

"Isn't he _beautiful_?" Hagrid murmured. He reached out a hand to stroke the dragon's head. It snapped at his fingers, showing pointed fangs.

"Bless him, look, he knows his mommy!" said Hagrid.

"Hagrid," said Hermione, "how fast to Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?"

Hagrid was about to answer when the color suddenly drained from his face – he lept to his feet and ran to the window.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked.

"Someone was lookin' through the gap in the curtains – it's a kid – he's runnin' back up ter the school."

Amanda bolted to the door and looked out. Even at a distance, there was no mistaking him.

Malfoy had seen the dragon.

/-/

Something about the smile lurking on Malfoy's face during the next week made Harry, Amanda, Charlotte, Ron, and Hermione very nervous. They spent most of their free time in Hagrid's darkened hut, trying to reason with him.

"Just let him go," Harry urged. "Set him free."

"I can't," said Hagrid. "He's too little. He'd die."

They looked at the dragon. It had grown three times in length in just a week. Smoke kept furling out of its nostrils. Hagrid had not been doing his gamekeeping duties because the dragon was keeping him so busy. There were empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers all over the floor.

"I've decided to call him Norbert," said Hagrid, looking at the dragon with misty eyes. "He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert! Where's Mommy?"

"He's lost his marbles," Charlotte muttered in Harry's ear.

"Hagrid," said Amanda loudly, "give it two weeks and Norbert's going to be as long as your house. Malfoy could go to Dumbledore any moment."

Hagrid bit his lip.

"I – I know I can't keep him forever, but I can't jus' dump him, I can't."

Harry suddenly turned to Ron.

"Charlie," he said.

"You're losing it, too," said Ron. "I'm Ron, remember?"

"No – Charlie – your brother in Romania. Studying dragons. We could send Norbert to him. Charlie can take care of him and put him back in the wild!"

"Brilliant!" said Charlotte. "How about it, Hagrid?"

And in the end, Hagrid agreed that they could send an owl to Charlie to ask him.

/-/

The following week dragged by. Wednesday night found Hermione, Charlotte, Amanda, and Harry sitting alone in the common room, long after everyone else had gone to bed. The clock on the wall had just chimed midnight when the portrait hole burst open. Ron appeared out of nowhere as he pulled off Harry's invisibility cloak. He had been down at Hagrid's hut, helping him feed Norbert, who was now eating dead rats by the crate.

"It bit you!" Amanda said, as Ron showed them his hand, which was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief.

Ron nodded. "I'm not going to be able to hold a quill for a week. I tell you, that dragon' the most horrible animal I've ever met, but the way Hagrid goes on about it, you'd think it was a fluffy little bunny rabbit. When it bit me he told me off for frightening it. And when I left, he was singing it a lullaby."

There was a tap on the dark window.

"It's Hedwig!" said Harry, hurrying to let her in. "She'll have Charlie's answer!"

The five of them put their heads together to read the note.

_Dear Ron,_

_ How are you? Thanks for the letter – I'd be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn't be seen carrying an illegal dragon._

_ Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it's still dark._

_ Send me an answer as soon as possible._

_ Love,_

_ Charlie_

They looked at one another.

"We've got the invisibility cloak," said Charlotte. "It shouldn't be too difficult – I think the cloak's big enough to cover three or four of us and Norbert."

It was a mark of how bad the last week had been that the other four agreed with her. Anything to get rid of Norbert – and Malfoy.

/-/

There was a hitch. By the next morning, Ron's bitten hand had swollen twice its usual size. He did not know whether it was safe to go to Madam Pomfrey – would she recognize a dragon bite? By the afternoon, though, he had no choice. The cut had turned a nasty shade of green. It looked as though Norbert's fangs were poisonous.

Harry, Charlotte, Amanda, and Hermione rushed up to the hospital wing at the end of the day to find Ron in a terrible state in bed.

"How does it feel?" Amanda asked, sitting down beside him.

"It's not just my hand," he whispered, "although that feels like it's about to fall off. Malfoy told Madam Pomfrey he wanted to borrow one of my books so he could come and have a good laugh at me. He kept threatening to tell her what really bit me – I've told her it was a dog, but I don't think she believes me – I shouldn't have hit him at the Quidditch match, that's why he's doing this."

Harry, Charlotte, Amanda, and Hermione tried to calm Ron down.

"It'll all be over midnight on Saturday," said Hermione, but this did not soothe Ron at all. On the contrary, he sat bolt upright and broke into a sweat.

"Midnight on Saturday!" he said in a hoarse voice. "Oh no – oh no – I've just remembered – Charlie's letter was in that book Malfoy took, he's going to know we're getting rid of Norbert."

Harry, Charlotte, Amanda, and Hermione did not get a chance to answer. Madam Pomfrey came over at that moment and made them leave, saying Ron needed sleep.

/-/

"It's too late to change the plan now," Charlotte told Amanda, Harry, and Hermione. "We haven't got time to send Charlie another owl, and this could be our only chance to get rid of Norbert. We'll have to risk it. And we _have_ got the invisibility cloak. Malfoy doesn't know about that."

They found Fang the boarhound sitting outside with a bandaged tail when they went to tell Hagrid, who opened a window to talk to them.

"I won't let you in," he puffed. "Norbert's at a tricky stage – nothin' I can't handle."

When they told him about Charlie's letter, his eyes filled with tears, although that might have been because Norbert had just bitten him on the leg.

"Aargh! It's all right, he's only got my boot – jus' playin' – he's only a baby, after all."

The baby banged its tail on the wall, making the windows rattle. Charlotte, Harry, Amanda, and Hermione walked back to the castle feeling Saturday could not come quickly enough.

/-/

They would have felt sorry for Hagrid when the time came for him to say good-bye to Norbert if they had not been so worried about what they had to do. It was a very dark, cloudy night, and they were a bit late arriving at Hagrid's hut because they'd had to wait for Peeves to get out of their way in the entrance hall, where he had been playing tennis against the wall.

Hagrid had Norbert packed and ready in a large crate.

"He's got lots o' rats an' some brandy fer the journey," said Hagrid in a muffled voice. "An' I've packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely."

From inside the crate came ripping noises that sounded to Amanda as though the teddy bear was having his head torn off.

"Bye-bye, Norbert!" Hagrid sobbed as Harry, Charlotte, Amanda, and Hermione covered the crate with the invisibility cloak and stepped underneath it themselves. "Mommy will never forget you!"

How they managed to get the crate back up to the castle, they never knew. Midnight ticked nearer as they heaved Norbert up the marble staircase in the entrance hall and along the dark corridors. Up another staircase, then another – even one of Harry's shortcuts did not make the work much easier.

"Nearly there!" Amanda panted as they reached the corridor beneath the tallest tower.

Then a sudden movement ahead of them made them almost drop the crate. Forgetting that they were already invisible, they shrank into the shadows, staring at the dark outlines of two people grappling with each other ten feet away. A lamp flared.

Professor McGonagall, in a tartan bathrobe and a hair net, had Malfoy by the ear.

"Detention!" she shouted. "And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how _dare_ you – "

"You don't understand, Professor, Harry Potter's coming – he's got a dragon!"

"What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on – I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!"

The steep spiral staircase up to the top of the tower seemed the easiest thing in the world after that. Not until they had stepped out into the cold night air did they throw off the cloak, glad to be able to breathe properly again. Hermione did a sort of jig.

"Malfoy's got detention! I could sing!"

"Don't," Harry advised her.

Chuckling about Malfoy, they waited, Norbert thrashing about in his crate. About ten minutes later, four broomsticks came swooping down out of the darkness.

Charlie's friends were a cheery lot. They showed Harry, Charlotte, Amanda, and Hermione the harness they had rigged up so they could suspend Norbert between them. They all helped buckle Norbert safely into it and then Harry, Charlotte, Amanda, and Hermione shook hands with the others and thanked them very much.

At last, Norbert was going… going… _gone_.

They slipped back down the spiral staircase, their hearts as light as their hands, now that Norbert was off them. No more dragon – Malfoy in detention – what could spoil their happiness?

The answer to that was waiting at the foot of the stairs. As they stepped into the corridor, Filch's face loomed suddenly out of the darkness.

"Well, well, well," he whispered, "we _are_ in trouble."

They had left the invisibility cloak on top of the tower.

/-/

Things could not have been worse

Filch took them down to Professor McGonagall's study on the first floor, where they sat and waited without saying a word to each other. Hermione was trembling. Excuses, alibies, and wild cover-up stories chased each other around in Charlotte's brain, each more feeble than the last. She could not see how they were going to get out of trouble this time. They were concerned. How could they have been so stupid as to forget the cloak? There was no reason on earth that Professor McGonagall would accept for their being out of bed and creeping around the school in the dead of night, let alone being up in the tallest astronomy tower, which was out-of-bounds except for classes. Add in Norbert and the invisibility cloak and they might as well be packing their bags already.

Had Charlotte thought that things could not have been worse? She was wrong. When Professor McGonagall appeared, she was leading Neville.

"Harry!" Neville burst out, the moment he saw the other two. "I was trying to find you to warn you. I heard Malfoy saying he was going to catch you, he said you had a drag – "

Harry shook his head violently to shut Neville up, but Professor McGonagall had seen. She looked more likely to breathe fire than Norbert as she towered over the five of them.

"I would never have believed it of any of you. Mr. Filch says you were up in the astronomy tower. It's one o'clock in the morning. _Explain yourselves_."

It was the first time Hermione and Charlotte had ever collectively failed to answer a teacher's question. Hermione was staring at her slippers, as still as a statue.

"I think I've got a good idea of what's been going on," said Professor McGonagall. "It doesn't take a genius to work it out. You fed Draco Malfoy some cock-and-bull story about a dragon, trying to get him out of bed and into trouble. I already caught him. I suppose you think it's funny that Longbottom here heard the story and believed it, too?"

Charlotte caught Neville's eye and tried to tell him without words that this was not true, because Neville was looking stunned and hurt. Poor, blundering Neville – Charlotte knew what it must have cost him to try and find them in the dark, to warn them.

"I'm disgusted," said Professor McGonagall. Six students out of bed in one night! I've never heard of such a thing before! You, Miss Granger, I thought you had more sense. As for you two, Mr. Potter, Miss Cromwell, Miss Potter, I thought Gryffindor meant more to you than this. All four of you will receive detentions – yes, you too, Mr. Longbottom, _nothing_ gives you the right to walk around school at night, especially these days, it's very dangerous – and fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor."

"_Fifty?_" Harry gasped – they would lose the lead, the lead Harry had won the last Quidditch match.

"Fifty points each," said Professor McGonagall, breathing heavily through her long, pointed nose.

"Professor – please – "

"You _can't _– "

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Miss Potter. Now get back to bed, all of you. I've never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students."

Two hundred and fifty points lost. That put Gryffindor in last place. In one night, they had ruined any chance Gryffindor had had for the house cup. Amanda felt as though the bottom had dropped out of her stomach. How could they ever make up for that?

Amanda did not sleep all night. She could hear Hermione sobbing into her pillow for what seemed like hours. Amanda could not think of anything to say to comfort her. She knew Hermione and Charlotte, like herself, were dreading the dawn. What would happen when the rest of Gryffindor found out what they had done?

At first, Gryffindors passing the giant hourglasses that recorded the house points the next day thought there had been a mistake. How could they suddenly have two hundred and fifty points fewer than yesterday? And then the story started to spread: Harry Potter, the famous Harry Potter, their hero of two Quidditch matches, had lost them all those points, him and a couple of other stupid first years.

From being two of the most popular and admired people at the school, Harry and Amanda were suddenly the most hated. Even Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs turned on him, because everyone had been longing to see Slytherin lose the house cup. Everywhere they went, people pointed and did not trouble to lower their voices as they insulted them. Slytherins, on the other hand clapped as they walked past them, whistling and cheering, "Thanks, Potter, we owe you won!"

Only Ron stood by them.

"They'll all forget this in a few weeks. Fred and George have lost loads of points in all the time they've been here, and people still like them."

"They've never lost two hundred points in one go, though, have they?" said Harry miserably.

"Well – no," Ron admitted.

It was a bit late to repair the damage, but Amanda swore to herself not to meddle in things that weren't her business from now on. She'd had it with sneaking around and spying. She felt so ashamed of herself that she went to Wood and offered to resign from the Quidditch team, along with Charlotte and Harry.

"Resign?" Wood thundered. "What good'll that do? How are we going to get any points back if we can't win at Quidditch?"

But even Quidditch had lost its fun. The rest of the team wouldn't speak to Harry, Amanda or Charlotte during practice, and when they had to speak about them, the called them "the Seeker" and "the reserve."

Hermione and Neville were suffering, too. They didn't have as bad a time as Harry, Amanda, and Charlotte, because they weren't as well-known, but nobody would speak to them, either. Hermione had stopped drawing attention to herself in class, keeping her head down and working silence.

Amanda was almost glad that exams weren't far away. All the studying she had to do kept her mind off her misery. She, Charlotte, Ron, Harry, and Hermione kept to themselves, working late into the night, trying to remember the ingredients in complicated potions, learn charms and spells by heart, memorize the dates of magical discoveries and goblin rebellions….

Then, about a week before the exams were due to start, Amanda's new resolution not to interfere in anything that didn't concern her was put to an unexpected test. Walking back from the library with Harry and Charlotte one afternoon, they heard somebody whimpering from a classroom up ahead. As they drew closer, she heard Quirrell's voice.

"No – no – not again, please–"

It sounded as though someone was threatening him. Harry, Amanda, and Charlotte moved closer.

"All right – all right–" he heard Quirrell sob.

Next second, Quirrell came hurrying out of the classroom straightening his turban. He was pale and looked as though he was about to cry. He strode out of sight; Amanda didn't think Quirrell had even noticed them. They waited until Quirrell's footsteps had disappeared, then peered into the classroom. It was empty, but a door stood ajar at the other end. Amanda was halfway toward it before she remembered what she'd promised herself about not meddling.

All the same, she'd have gambled twelve Sorcerer's Stones that Snape had just left the room, and from what Harry, Amanda, and Charlotte had just heard, Snape would be walking with a new spring in his step – Quirrell seemed to have given in at last.

Harry, Amanda, and Charlotte went back to the library, where Hermione was testing Ron on Astronomy. Harry told them what they'd heard.

"Snape's done it, then!" said Charlotte. "If Quirrell's told him how to break his Anti-Dark Force spell–"

"There's still Fluffy, though," said Amanda said without much hope.

"Maybe Snape's found out how to get past him without asking Hagrid," said Ron, looking up at the thousands of books surrounding them. "I bet there's a book somewhere in here telling you how to get past a giant three-headed dog. So what do we do, Harry?"

The light of adventure was kindling again in Ron's and Charlotte's eyes, but Hermione answered before Harry could.

"Go to Dumbledore. That's what we should have done ages ago. If we try anything ourselves we'll be thrown out for sure."

"But we've got no _proof_!" said Harry. "Quirrell's too scared to back us up. Snape's only got to say that he doesn't know how the troll got in at Halloween and that he was nowhere near the third floor – who do you think they'll believe, him or us? It's not exactly a secret we hate him, Dumbledore'll think we made it up to get him sacked. Filch wouldn't help us if his life depended on it, he's too friendly with Snape, and the more students get thrown out, the better, he'll think. And don't forget, we're not supposed to know about the Stone or Fluffy. That'll take a lot of explaining."

Hermione looked convinced, but Ron didn't.

"If we just do a bit of poking around–"

"No," said Charlotte flatly, "we've done enough poking around. Harry's right."

Amanda pulled a map of Jupiter toward her and started to learn the names of its moons.


	20. Detention

The following morning, notes were delivered to Charlotte, Harry, Hermione, Amanda, and Neville at the breakfast table. They were all the same:

_Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock tonight. Meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall._

_ProfessorM. McGonagall_

Charlotte had forgotten they still had detentions to do in the furor over the points they'd lost. She half expected Hermione to complain that this was a whole night of studying lost, but she didn't say a word. Like Charlotte, she felt they deserved what they'd got.

At eleven o'clock that night, they said good-bye to Ron in the common room and went down to the entrance hall with Neville. Filch was already there – and so was Malfoy. Charlotte had also forgotten that Malfoy had gotten detention, too.

"Follow me," said Filch, lighting a lamp and leading them outside.

"I bet you'll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won't you, eh?" he said, leering at them. "Oh yes… hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me…. It's just a pity they let the old punishments die out… hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I've got the chains still in my office, keep 'em well-oiled in case they're ever needed…. Right, off we go, and don't think of running off, now, it'll be worse for you if you do."

They marched off across the dark grounds. Neville kept sniffing. Charlotte wondered what their punishment was going to be. It must be something really horrible, or Filch wouldn't be sounding so delighted.

The moon was bright, but clouds scudding across it kept throwing them into darkness. Ahead, Charlotte could see the lighted windows of Hagrid's hut. Then they heard a distant shout.

"Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started."

Charlotte's heart rose; if they were going to be working with Hagrid it wouldn't be so bad. Her relief must have showed in her face, because Filch said, "I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, girl – it's into the forest you're going and I'm much mistaken if you'll all come out in one piece."

At this, Neville let out a little moan, and Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks.

"The forest?" he repeated, and he didn't sound quite as cool as usual. "We can't go in here at night – there's all sorts of things in there – werewolves, I've heard."

Neville clutched the sleeve of Harry's robe and made a choking noise.

"That's your problem, isn't it?" said Filch, his voice crackling with glee. "Should've thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn't you?"

Hagrid came striding toward them out of the dark, Fang at his heel. He was carrying his large crossbow, and a quiver of arrows hung over his shoulder.

"Abou' time," he said. "I bin waitin' fer half an hour already. All right, Charlotte, Harry, 'Manda, Hermione?"

"I shouldn't be too friendly to them, Hagrid," said Filch coldly, "they're here to be punished, after all."

"That's why yer late, isn't it?" said Hagrid, frowning at Filch. "Bin lecturin' them, eh? 'Snot your place ter do that. Yeh've done yer bit, I'll take over from here."

"I'll be back at dawn," said Filch, "for what's left of them," he added nastily, and he turned and started back toward the castle, his lamp bobbing away in the darkness."

Malfoy now turned to Hagrid.

"I'm not going into that forest," he said, and Charlotte was pleased to hear the note of panic in his voice.

"Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts," said Hagrid fiercely. "Yeh've done wrong an' now yeh've got ter pay fer it."

"But this is student stuff, not for students to do. I thought we'd be copying lines or something, if my father knew I was doing this, he'd–"

" – tell yer that's how it is at Hogwarts," Hagrid growled. "Copyin' lines! What good's that ter anyone? Yeh'll do summat useful or yeh'll get out. If yeh think yer father'd rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an' pack. Go on!"

Malfoy didn't move. He looked at Hagrid furiously, but then dropped his gaze.

"Right then," said Hagrid, "now, listen carefully, 'cause it's dangerous, what we're gonna do tonight, an' I don' want no one taking risks. Follow me over here a moment."

He led them to the very edge of the forest. Holding his lamp up, he pointed down a narrow, winding earth path that disappeared into the thick black trees. A light breeze lifted their hair as they looked into the forest.

"Look there," said Hagrid, "see that stuff shinin' on the ground? Silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there been badly hurt by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery."

"And what happens if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" said Malfoy, unable to keep the fear out of his voice.

"There's nothin' in the forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang," said Hagrid. "An' keep ter the path. Right, now we're gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trail in different directions. There's blood all over the place, it must've bin staggerin' around since last night, at least."

"I want Fang," said Malfoy quickly, looking at Fang's long teeth.

"All right, but I warn yeh, he's a coward," said Hagrid. "So me, Charlotte, Harry, Amanda, and Hermione'll go one way an' Draco, Neville an' Fang'll go the other. Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we'll send up green sparks, right? Get yer wands out an' practice now – that's it – an' if anyone gets into trouble, send up red sparks an' we'll all come an' find yeh – so, be careful – let's go."

The forest was black and silent. A little way into it, they reached a fork in the earth path, and Charlotte, Harry, Hermione, Amanda and Hagrid took the left path while Malfoy, Neville, and Fang took the right.

They walked in silence their eyes on the ground. Every now and then a ray of moonlight through the branches above a lit spot of silver-blue blood on the fallen leaves.

Charlotte saw that Hagrid looked very worried.

"_Could_ a werewolf be killing the unicorns?" said Harry.

"Not fast enough," said Hagrid. "It's not easy ter catch a unicorn, they're powerful magical creatures. I never knew one ter be hurt before."

They walked past a mossy tree stump. Charlotte could hear running water; there must be stream somewhere close by. There were still spots of unicorn blood here and there along the path.

"You all right, Hermione?" Hagrid whispered. Don' worry, it can't've gone far if it's this badly hurt, an' then we'll be able ter – GET BEHIND THAT TREE!"

Hagrid seized Charlotte, Harry, Amanda, and Hermione and hoisted them off the path behind a towering oak. He pulled out an arrow and fitted it into his crossbow, raising it, ready to fire. The four of them listened. Something was slithering over dead leaves nearby. It sounded like a cloak, trailing along the ground. Hagrid was squinting up the dark path, but after a few seconds, the sound faded away.

"I knew it," he murmured. "There's summat in here that shouldn' be."

"A werewolf?" Harry suggested.

"That wasn' no werewolf, an' it wasn' no unicorn, neither, said Hagrid grimly. "Right, follow me, but careful, now."

They walked more slowly, ears strained for the faintest sound. Suddenly, in a clearing ahead, something definitely moved.

"Who's there?" Hagrid called. "Show yerself – I'm armed!"

And into the clearing came a centaur. Charlotte, Harry, Amanda and Hermione's draws dropped.

"Oh, it's you, Ronan," said Hagrid in relief. "How are yeh?"

He walked forward and shook the centaur's hand.

"Good evening to you, Hagrid," said Ronan. He had a deep, sorrowful voice. "Were you going to shoot me?"

"Can't be too careful, Ronan," said Hagrid, patting his crossbow. "There's summat bad loose in this forest. This is Charlotte Cromwell, Harry Potter an' Hermione Granger, by the way. Students up at the school. And this is Ronan, you two. He's a centaur."

"We'd noticed," said Hermione faintly.

"Good evening," said Ronan. "Students, are you? And do you learn much, up at the school?"

"Erm–"

"A bit," said Amanda timidly.

"A bit. Well, that's something," Ronan sighed. He flung back his head and stared at the sky. "Mars is bright tonight."

"Yeah," said Hagrid, glancing up, too. "Listen, I'm glad we've run inter yeh, Ronan, 'cause there's a unicorn bin hurt – you seen anythin'?"

Ronan didn't answer immediately. He stared unblinkingly upward, then sighed again.

"Always the innocent are the first victims," he said. "So it has been for ages past, so it is now."

"Yeah," said Hagrid, "but have yeh seen anythin', Ronan? Anythin' unusual?"

"Mars is bright tonight," Ronan repeated, while Hagrid watched him impatiently. "Unusually bright."

"Yeah, but I was meanin' anythin' unusual a bit nearer to home," said Hagrid. "So yeh haven't noticed anythin' strange?"

Yet again, Ronan took a while to answer. At last, he said, "The forest hides many secrets."

A movement in the trees behind Ronan made Hagrid raise his bow again, but it was only a second centaur, black-haired and –bodied and wilder-looking than Ronan.

"Hullo, Bane," said Hagrid. "All right?"

"Good evening, Hagrid, I hope you are well?"

"Well enough. Look, I've just bin askin' Ronan, you seen anything odd in here lately? There's a unicorn bin injured – would yeh know anything about it?"

Bane walked over to stand next to Ronan. He looked skyward.

"Mars is bright tonight," he said simply.

"We've heard," said Hagrid grumpily. "Well, if either of you do see anythin', let know, won't yeh? We'll be off, then?"

Charlotte, Harry, Amanda and Hermione followed him out of the clearing, staring over their shoulders at Ronan and Bane until the trees blocked their view.

"Never," said Hagrid irritably, "try an' get a straight answer out of a centaur. Ruddy stargazers. Not interesting in anythin' closer'n the moon."

"Are there many of _them_ in here?" asked Hermione.

"Oh, a fair few…. Keep themselves to themselves mostly, but they're good enough about turnin' up if I ever want a word. They're deep, mind, centaurs… they know things… jus' don' let on much."

"D'you think that was a centaur we heard earlier?" said Harry.

"Did that sound like hooves to you? Nah, if yeh ask me, that was what's bin killin' the unicorns – never heard anythin' like it before."

They walked on through the dense, dark trees. Charlotte kept looking nervously over her shoulder. She had a nasty feeling they were being watched. She was very glad they had Hagrid and his crossbow with them. They had just passed a bend in the path when Hermione grabbed Hagrid's arm.

"Hagrid! Look! Red sparks, the others are in trouble!"

"You four wait here!" Hagrid shouted. "Stay on the path, I'll come back for yeh!"

They heard him crashing away through the undergrowth and stood looking at each other, very scared, until they couldn't hear anything but the rustling of leaves around them.

"You don't think they've been hurt, do you?" whispered Charlotte.

Amanda shivered next to her. "I don't care if Malfoy has, but if something's got Neville… it's our fault he's here in the first place."

The minutes dragged by. Their ears seemed sharper than usual. Charlotte's seemed to be picking up every sigh of wind, every cracking twig. What was going on? Where were the others?

At last, a great crunching noise announced Hagrid's return. Malfoy, Neville and Fang were with him. Hagrid was fuming. Malfoy, it seemed, had sneaked up behind Neville and grabbed him as a joke. Neville had panicked and sent up the sparks.

"We'll be lucky ter catch anything now, with the racket you two were makin'. Right, we're changing groups – Neville, you stay with me an' Hermione; Charlotte, Amanda, and Harry, you go with Fang and this idiot. I'm sorry," Hagrid added in a whisper to Charlotte, Amanda, and Harry, "but he'll have a harder time frightenin' you three, an' we've gotta get this done."

So Charlotte, Amanda, and Harry set off into the heart of the forest with Malfoy and Fang. They walked for nearly half an hour, deeper and deeper into the forest, until the path became almost impossible to follow because the trees were so thick. Charlotte thought the blood seemed to be getting thicker. There were splashes on the roots of a tree, as though the poor creature had been writing in pain nearby. Charlotte could see a clearing ahead, through the tangled branches of an ancient oak.

"Look–" Harry murmured, holding out his arm to stop Malfoy.

Something bright white was gleaming on the ground. They inched closer.

It was the unicorn all right, and it was dead. Charlotte had never seen anything so beautiful and sad. Its long, slender legs were stuck at odd angles where it had fallen, and its mane was spread pearly white onto the dark leaves.

Charlotte had taken one step toward it when a slithering sound made her freeze where she stood. A bush on the edge of the clearing quivered…. Then, out of the shadows, a hooded figure came crawling out of the ground like some stalking beast. Charlotte, Harry, Malfoy, Amanda, and Fang stood transfixed. The cloaked figure reached the unicorn, lowered its head over the wound in its side and began to drink its blood.

"AAAAAAAAAAARGH!"

Malfoy let out a terrible scream and bolted – so did Fang. The hooded figure raised its head and looked right at Charlotte, Amanda, and Harry – unicorn blood was dribbling down its front. It got to its feet and came swiftly toward them – none could move out of fear.

Harry staggered backward, gripping at his forehead. Charlotte heard hooves behind them, galloping, and something jumped clean over the three of them, charging at the figure.

Harry fell to his knees beside her, grimacing in pain and grasping at his forehead. When he looked up again, the figured had gone. A centaur was standing over them, but not Ronan or Bane; this one looked younger; he had white blonde hair and a palomino body.

"Are you all right?" said the centaur, pulling Harry to his feet.

"Yes – thank you – what _was_ that?"

The centaur didn't answer. He had astonishingly blue eyes, like pale blue sapphires. He looked carefully at Harry, his eyes lingering on the scar that stood out, livid, on Harry's forehead.

"You're the Potter twins," he said, and then glanced at Charlotte. His eyes widened with shock when he saw her. "And the Cromwell girl. You had better get back to Hagrid. The forest is not safe at this time – especially for the three of you. Can you ride? It will be quicker this way.

"My name is Firenze," he added as he lowered himself onto his front legs so that Charlotte, Amanda, and Harry could clamber onto his back.

There was suddenly the sound of more galloping from the other side of the clearing. Ronan and Bane came bursting through the trees, their flanks heaving and sweaty.

"Firenze!" Bane thundered. "What are you doing? You have humans on your back! Have you no shame? Are you a common mule?"

"Do you realize who they are?" said Firenze. "They are the Potter twins and the Cromwell girl. The quicker they leave the forest, the better."

"What have you been telling them?" growled Bane. "Remember, Firenze, we are sworn not to set ourselves against the heavens. Have we not read what is to come in the movement of the planets?"

Ronan pawed the ground nervously. "I'm sure that Firenze thought he was acting for the best," he said in his gloomy voice.

Bane kicked his back legs in anger.

"For the best! What is that to do with us? Centaurs are concerned with what has been foretold. It is not our business to run around like donkeys after stray humans in the forest!"

Firenze suddenly reared on his hind legs in anger, So that Charlotte had to grab his shoulders to stay on.

"Do you not see that unicorn?" Firenze bellowed at Bane. "Do you not understand why it was killed? Or have the planets not let you in on that secret? I set myself against what is lurking in this forest, Bane, yes, with humans alongside me if I must."

And Firenze whisked around; with Charlotte clutching as best as she could, they plunged off into the trees, leaving Ronan and Bane behind them.

Charlotte didn't have a clue what was going on.

"Why's Bane so angry?" Harry asked. "What was that thing you saved us from, anyway?"

Firenze slowed to a walk, warned Charlotte, Amanda, and Harry to keep their heads bowed in case of low-hanging branches, but did not Harry's question. They made their way through the trees in silence for so long that Charlotte thought Firenze didn't want to talk to them anymore. They were passing through a particularly dense patch of trees, however, when Firenze suddenly stopped.

"Harry Potter, do you know what unicorn blood is used for?"

"No," said Charlotte. "We've only used the horn and tail hair in Potions."

"That is because it is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn," said Firenze. "Only who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenseless to save yourself, and you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips."

Charlotte stared at the back of Firenze's head, which was dappled silver in the moonlight.

"But who would be that desperate?" Amanda wondered aloud. "If you're going to be cursed forever, death's better, isn't it?"

"It is," Firenze agreed, "unless all you need is to stay alive long enough to drink something else – something that will bring you back to full strength and power – something that will mean you can never die. Mr. Potter, do you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment?"

"The Sorcerer's Stone! Of course – the Elixir of Life! But I don't understand who–"

"Can you think of nobody who has waited many years to return to power, who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?"

It was though an iron fist suddenly clenched around Charlotte's heart. Over the rustling of the trees, she seemed to hear once more what Hagrid had told them on the night she had first met Harry and Amanda: "Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die."

"Do you mean," croaked Harry, "that was _Vol_–"

"Charlotte! Amanda! Harry, are you all right?"

Hermione was running toward them down the path, Hagrid puffing along behind her.

"We're fine," said Harry. "The unicorn's dead, Hagrid, it's in that clearing back there."

"This is where I leave you," Firenze murmured as Hagrid hurried off to examine the unicorn. "You are safe now."

Charlotte, Amanda, and Harry slid off his back.

"Good luck, Charlotte Cromwell and Harry and Amanda Potter," said Firenze. "The planets have been read wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times."

He turned and cantered back into the depths of the forest leaving Charlotte shivering behind him.


	21. Beneath the School

Ron had fallen asleep in the dark common room, waiting for them to return. He said something about Quidditch fouls when Harry roughly shook him awake. In a matter of seconds, though, he was wide-eyed as Amanda began to tell him and Hermione what had happened in the forest.

Amanda couldn't sit down. She paced up and down in front of the fire. She was still shaking.

"Snape wants the stone for Voldemort… and Voldemort's waiting in the forest… and all this time we though Snape just wanted to get rich…."

"Stop saying the name!" said Ron, in a terrified whisper, as if he thought Voldemort could hear them.

Harry wasn't listening.

"Firenze saved us, but he shouldn't have done so…. Bane was furious… he was talking about interfering with what the planets say is going to happen…. They must show that Voldemort's coming back…. Bane thinks Firenze should have let Voldemort kill us…. I suppose that's written in the stars as well."

"_Will you stop saying the name!_" Ron hissed.

"So all we've got to wait for now is Snape to steal the Stone," Charlotte said on feverishly, "then Voldemort will be able to come finish us off…. Well, I suppose Bane'll be happy."

"Ugh," Amanda groaned, glaring at her friend's morbidity.

Hermione looked very frightened, but she had a word of comfort.

"Harry, everyone says Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of. With Dumbledore, around, You-Know-Who won't touch you. Anyway, who says the centaurs are right? It sounds like fortune-telling to me, and Professor McGonagall says that's a very imprecise branch of magic."

Amanda couldn't have explained it, but Charlotte seemed to have tensed at Hermione's insult of fortune-telling, but it passed as suddenly as it came and Harry said, "I think we just all ought to get a good nights' sleep."

The sky had turned light before they stopped talking. They went to be exhausted, their throats sore. But the night's surprises weren't over.

When Amanda pulled back her sheets, she found the invisibility cloak folded neatly underneath them. There was a note pinned to it:

Just in case.

/-/

In years to come, Charlotte would never quite remember how she had managed to get through her exams when she half expected Voldemort to burst through the door at any moment. Yet the days crept by, and there could be no doubt that Fluffy was still alive and well behind the locked door.

It was sweltering hot, especially in the large classroom where they did their written papers. They had been given special quills for the exams, which had been bewitched with an Anti-Cheating spell.

They had practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick called them in one by one to see if they could make a pineapple tap dance across a desk. Professor McGonagall watched them turn a mouse into a snuffbox – points were given for how pretty the snuffbox was, but taken away if it had whiskers. Snape made them all nervous, breathing down their necks as they tried to remember how to make a Forgetfulness Potion.

Charlotte did the best she could, as did her friends. It was too bad that Harry was still suffering from the head pains since they had visited the forest. Neville was fairly certain that Harry had a bad case of exam nerves, but Charlotte was instinctively aware that it was something else.

Maybe it was because they hadn't seen what Charlotte and Harry had seen in the forest, or because they didn't have scars burning on their foreheads, but Ron and Hermione didn't seem as worried about the stone as Charlotte, Amanda, and Harry. The idea of Voldemort certainly scared them, but he didn't keep visiting them in their dreams, and they were so busy with their studying that they didn't have time to fret about what Snape or anybody else might be up to.

Their very last exam was History of Magic. One hour of answering questions about batty old wizards who'd invented self-stirring cauldrons and they'd be free, free for a whole wonderful week until their exam results came out. When the ghost of Professor Binns told them to put down their quills and roll up their parchment, Charlotte couldn't help cheering with the rest.

"That was far easier than I thought it would be," said Hermione as they joined the crowds flocking out onto the sunny grounds. "I needn't have learned about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct of the uprising of Elfric the Eager."

Hermione always liked to go through their exam papers afterward, but Ron said this made him feel ill, so they wandered down to the lake and flopped under a tree. The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were tickling the tentacles of a giant squid, which was basking in the warm shallows.

"No more studying," Ron sighed happily, stretching out on the grass. "You could look more cheerful, Harry, we've got a week before we find out how we've done, there's no need to worry yet."

Harry was rubbing his forehead.

"You all right, Harry?" said Charlotte, worried.

"I wish I knew what this _means_!" Amanda burst out angrily. "His scar keeps hurting, it's happened before, but never as often as this."

"Go to Madam Pomfrey," Hermione suggested.

"I'm not ill," said Harry. "I think it's a warning… it means danger's coming…"

Ron couldn't get worked up, it was too hot.

"Harry, relax, Hermione's right, the Stone's safe as long as Dumbledore's around. Anyway, we've never had any proof Snape found out how to get past Fluffy. He nearly had his leg ripped off once, he's not going to try it again in a hurry. And Neville will play Quidditch for England before Hagrid lets Dumbledore down."

Charlotte and Harry nodded, but she couldn't shake off a lurking feeling that there was something he'd forgotten to do, something important. When Harry was trying to explain this, which he seemed to be having too, Charlotte said, "You know it might just be the exams. I woke up last night and was halfway through my Transfiguration notes before I remembered we'd done that one."

Charlotte was quite sure that the unsettled feeling didn't have anything to do with work, though, but she didn't want to worry Harry. She watched an owl flutter toward the school across the bright blue sky, a note clamped in its mouth. Hagrid was the only one who ever sent her letters. Hagrid would never betray Dumbledore. Hagrid would never tell anyone how to get past Fluffy… never… but –

Charlotte suddenly jumped to her feet at the same time as Harry.

"Where are you two going?" said Amanda sleepily.

"I've just thought of something," said Harry. He had turned white. "We've got to go and see Hagrid, now."

"Why?" panted Hermione, hurrying to keep up.

"Don't you think it's a bit odd," said Harry, scrambling up the grassy slope, "that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket? How many people wander around with dragon eggs if it's against wizard law? Lucky they found Hagrid, don't you think? Why didn't I see it before?"

"None of us saw it," Charlotte reassured him.

"What are you talking about?" said Amanda, but Charlotte, sprinting across the grounds toward the forest, didn't answer.

Hagrid was sitting in an armchair outside his house; his trousers and sleeves were rolled up, and he was shelling peas into a large bowl.

"Hullo," he said, smiling. "Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?"

"Yes, please," said Ron, but Harry cut him off.

"No, we're in a hurry. Hagrid, I've got to ask you something. You know that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?"

"Dunno," said Hagrid casually, "he wouldn' take his cloak off."

He saw the five of them look stunned and raised his eyebrows. "It's not that unusual, yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Hog's Head – that's the pub down in the village. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn' he? I never saw his face, he kept his hood up."

Charlotte sank down next to the bowl of peas.

"What did you talk to him about, Hagrid? Did you mention Hogwarts at all?" Harry demanded.

"Mighta come up," said Hagrid, frowning as he tried to remember. "Yeah… he asked what I did, an' I told him I was gamekeeper here…. He asked a bit about the sorta creatures I look after… so I told him… an' I said what I'd always really wanted was a dragon… an' then… I can' remember too well, 'cause he kept buyin' me drinks…. Let's see… yeah, then he said he had the dragon egg an' we could play cards fer it if I wanted… but he had ter be sure I could handle it, he didn' want it ter go ter any old home…. So I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy…."

"And did he – did he seem interested in Fluffy?" Charlotte asked, trying to keep her voice calm.

"Well – yeah – how many three-headed dogs d'yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy's a piece o' cake if yeh know how to calm him down, jus' play him a bit o' music an' he'll go straight off ter sleep–"

Hagrid suddenly looked horrified.

"I shouldn'ta told yeh that!" he blurted out. "Forget I said it! Hey – where're yeh goin'?

Charlotte, Harry, Ron, Amanda, and Hermione didn't speak to each other at all until they came to a halt in the entrance hall, which seemed very cold and gloomy after the grounds.

"We've got to go to Dumbledore," said Amanda. "Hagrid told that stranger how to get past Fluffy, and it was either Snape or Voldemort under that cloak – it must've been easy, once he'd got Hagrid drunk. I just hope Dumbledore believes us. Firenze might back us up if Bane doesn't stop him. Where's Dumbledore's office?"

They looked around, as if hoping to see a sign pointing them in the right direction. They had never been told where Dumbledore lived, nor did they know anyone who had been sent to see him.

"We'll just have to–" Harry began, but a voice suddenly rang across the hall.

"What are you five doing inside?"

It was Professor McGonagall, carrying a large pile of books.

"We want to see Professor Dumbledore," said Hermione, rather bravely, the others thought.

"See Professor Dumbledore?" Professor McGonagall repeated, as though this was a very fishy thing to want to do. "Why?"

Charlotte swallowed – now what?

"It's sort of a secret," Harry said, but Charlotte wished he hadn't at once, because Professor McGonagall's nostril flared.

"Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago," she said coldly. "He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at once."

"He's _gone_?" said Charlotte frantically. "_Now?_"

"Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Miss Cromwell. He has many demands on his time–"

"But this is important."

"Something you have to say is more important than the Ministry of Magic, Miss Potter?"

"Look," said Harry, throwing caution to the winds, "Professor – it's about the Sorcerer's Stone– "

Whatever Professor McGonagall had expected, it wasn't that. The books she was carrying tumbled out of her arms, but she didn't pick them up.

"How do you know–?" she spluttered.

"Professor, I think – I _know_ – that Sn – that someone's going to try and steal the Stone. I've got to talk to Professor Dumbledore."

She eyed him with a mixture of shock and suspicion.

"Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow," she said finally. "I don't know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it, it's too well protected."

"But Professor–"

"Potter, I know what I'm talking about," she said sharply. She bent down and gathered up the fallen books. "I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine."

But they didn't.

"It's tonight," said Charlotte, once she was sure Professor McGonagall was out of earshot. "Snape's going through the trapdoor tonight. He's found out everything he needs, and now he's got Dumbledore out of the way. He sent that note, I bet the Ministry of Magic will get a real shock when Dumbledore shows up."

"But what can we–"

Amanda gasped. Charlotte, Harry, Hermione and Ron wheeled around.

Snape was standing there.

"Good afternoon," he said smoothly.

They stared at him.

"You shouldn't be inside on a day like this," he said, with an odd, twisted smile.

"We were–" Harry began, obviously with no idea what he was about to say.

"You want to be more careful," said Snape. "Hanging around like this, people will think you're up to something. And Gryffindor really can't afford to lose any more points, can it?"

Charlotte flushed. They turned to go outside, but Snape called them back.

"Be warned, Potters, Cromwell – any more nighttime wanderings and I will personally make sure you are expelled. Good day to you."

He strode off in the direction of the staffroom.

"Right, here's what we've got to do," Harry whispered urgently. "One of us has got to keep an eye on Snape – wait outside the staffroom and follow him if he leaves it. Hermione, you'd better do that."

"Why me?" Hermione whined.

"It's obvious," said Charlotte. "You can pretend to be waiting for Professor Flitwick, you know." He put on a high voice, "'Oh, Professor, I'm so worried, I think I got question fourteen _b_ wrong…"

Amanda sniggered.

"Brilliant, Ron."

"Oh, shut up," said Hermione, but she agreed to go and watch out for Snape.

"And we'd better stay outside the third-floor corridor," Harry told Charlotte, Amanda, and Ron. "Come on."

But that part of the plan didn't work. No sooner had they reached the door separating Fluffy from the rest of the school than Professor McGonagall turned up again, and this time she lost her temper.

"I suppose you think you're harder to get past than a pack of enchantments!" she stormed. "Enough of this nonsense! If I hear you've come anywhere near here again, I'll take another fifty points from Gryffindor! Yes, Weasley, from my own House!"

Charlotte, Harry and Ron went back to the common room. Harry had just said, "At least Hermione's on Snape's tail," when the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open and Hermione came in.

"Well, then," Charlotte sighed.

"Brilliant," Amanda grumbled.

"I'm sorry, Harry!" Hermione wailed. "Snape came out and asked me what I was doing, and I said I was waiting for Flitwick, so Snape went to get him and I've only just got away, I don't know where Snape went."

"Well, that's it, then, isn't it?" said Harry.

The other four stared at him. He was pale and his eyes were glittering.

"Charlotte, Amanda, and I are going out of here tonight, and we're going to try and get the Stone first."

"You're mad!" said Charlotte, wondering why he was dragging her into this.

"We can't!" said Amanda. "After what McGonagall and Snape said? We'll all be expelled!"

"SO WHAT?" Harry shouted. "Don't you understand? If Snape gets hold of the Stone, Voldemort's coming back! Haven't you heard what it was like when he was trying to take over? There won't be any Hogwarts to be expelled from! He'll flatten it, or turn it into a school for the Dark Arts! Losing points doesn't matter anymore, don't you see? D'you think he'll leave you and your families alone if Gryffindor wins the house cup? If we get caught before we can get to the Stone, well, we'll have to go back to our homes and wait for Voldemort to find us there, it's only dying a bit later than we would have, because we're never going over to the Dark Side! We're going through that trapdoor tonight, and nothing you say is going to stop us. Voldemort killed our parents, remember?"

He glared. Technically, Charlotte thought, he really shouldn't speak for her, because her mother was killed by one of his followers and her father might still be alive, but the sentiment was good enough.

"You're right, Harry," said Hermione in a small voice.

"We'll use the Invisibility Cloak," said Harry. "It's just lucky we got it back."

"But will it cover all five of us?" said Charlotte.

Amanda frowned.

"All – all five of us?"

"Oh, come off it, you don't think we'd let you three go alone?" Ron asked.

"Of course not," said Hermione briskly. "How d'you think you'd get the Stone without us? Charlotte and I had better go look through our books, there might be something useful…"

"But if we get caught, you two will be expelled too," Harry pointed out.

"Not if I can help it," said Charlotte grimly. "Flitwick told me in secret that I got a hundred and twelve percent on his exam. They're not throwing me out after that."

/-/

After dinner, the five of them sat nervously apart in the common room. Nobody bothered them; none of the Gryffindors had anything to do with Harry, Amanda, and Charlotte, after all. This was the first night Amanda hadn't been upset by it. Hermione and Charlotte were skimming through all of their notes, hoping to come across one of the enchantments they were about to try to break. Harry, Amanda, and Ron didn't talk much. All of them were thinking about what they were about to do.

Slowly, the room emptied as people drifted off to bed.

"Better get the cloak," Amanda muttered, as Lee Jordan finally left, stretching and yawning. She ran upstairs to their dark dormitory. She pulled out the cloak, and then her eyes fell on the flute Hagrid had given her for Christmas. She pocketed it use on Fluffy – she didn't feel much like singing.

She ran back down to the common room.

"We'd better get the cloak on here," said Harry, "and make sure it covers all five of us – if Filch spots one of our feet wandering along on its own–"

"What are you doing?" said a voice from the corner of the room. Neville appeared from behind an armchair, clutching Trevor the toad, who looked as though he had been making another bid for freedom.

"Nothing, Neville, nothing," said Harry, hurriedly putting the cloak behind his back.

Neville stared at their guilty faces.

"You're going out again," he said.

"No, no, no," said Hermione. "No we're not. Why don't you go to be, Neville?"

Amanda looked at the grandfather clock by the door. They couldn't afford to be wasting any more time, Snape might even now be playing Fluffy to sleep.

"You can't go out," said Neville, "you'll be caught again. Gryffindor will be in even more trouble."

"You don't understand," said Charlotte, "this is important."

But Neville was clearly steeling himself to do something desperate.

"I won't let you do it," he said, hurrying to stand in front of the portrait hole. "I'll – I'll fight you!"

"_Neville_," Amanda exploded, "get away from that hole and don't be an idiot–"

"Don't you call me an idiot!" said Neville. "I don't think you should be breaking any more rules! And you were the ones who told me to stand up to people!

"Yes, but not to _us_," said Ron in exasperation. "Neville, you don't know what you're doing."

He took a step forward, and Neville dropped Trevor the toad, who leapt out of sight.

"Go on then, try and hit me!" said Neville, raising his fists. "I'm ready!"

Harry turned to Hermione.

"_Do something_," he said desperately.

Hermione stepped forward.

"Neville," she said, "I'm really, really sorry about this."

She raised her wand, but Charlotte beat her to it.

"I'm not," Charlotte said with a shrug. "_Petrificus Totalus!_"

Neville's arms snapped to his sides. His legs sprang together. His whole body rigid, he swayed where he stood and then fell flat on his face, stiff as a board.

Hermione ran to turn him over. Neville's jaws were jammed together so he couldn't speak. Only his eyes were moving, looking at them in horror.

"What have you done to him?" Amanda whispered.

"It's the full Body-Bind," said Hermione miserably. "Oh, Neville, I'm so sorry."

"We had to, Neville, no time to explain," said Harry.

"You'll understand later, Neville," said Ron as they stepped over him and pulled on the Invisibility Cloak.

But leaving Neville lying motionless on the floor didn't feel like a very good omen. In their nervous state, every statue's shadow looked like Filch, every distant breath of wind sounded like Peeves swooping down on them.

At the foot of the first set of stairs, they spotted Mrs. Norris skulking near the top.

"Oh, let's kick her, just this once," Charlotte whispered in Harry's ear, but Harry shook his head. As they climbed carefully around her, Mrs. Norris turned her lamplike eyes on them, but didn't do anything.

They didn't meet anyone else until they reached the staircase up to the third floor. Peeves was bobbing halfway up, loosening the carpet so that people would trip.

"Who's there?" he said suddenly as they climbed toward him. He narrowed his wicked black eyes. "Know you're there, even if I can't see you. Are you ghoulie or ghostie or wee student beastie?"

He rose up in the air there and squinted at them.

"Should call Filch, I should, if something's a-creeping unseen."

Amanda had a sudden idea.

"Peeves," she said in a hoarse whisper, "the Bloody Baron has his own reasons for being invisible."

Peeves almost fell out of the air in shock. He caught himself in time and hovered about a foot off the stairs.

"Sorry, your bloodiness, Mr. Baron, sir," he said greasily. "My mistake, my mistake – I didn't see you – of course I didn't, you're invisible – forgive old Peevsie his little joke, sir."

"I have business here, Peeves," croaked Harry. "Stay away from this place tonight."

"I will, sir, I most certainly will," said Peeves, rising up in the air again. "Hope your business goes well, Baron, I'll not bother you."

And he scooted off.

"_Brilliant_, you two!" whispered Ron.

A few seconds later, they were there, outside the third-floor corridor – and the door was already ajar.

"Well, there you are," said Harry, "Snape's already got past Fluffy."

Seeing the open door somehow seemed to impress upon all three of them what was facing them. Underneath the cloak, Charlotte turned to the others.

"If you want to go back, I won't blame you," she said. "You can take the cloak, we won't need it now."

"Don't be stupid," said Amanda.

"We're all coming," said Hermione.

Harry pushed the door open.

As the door creaked low, rumbling growls met their ears. All three of the dog's noses sniffed madly in their direction, even though it couldn't see them.

"What's that at its feet?" Hermione whispered.

"Looks like a harp," said Ron. "Snape must have left it there."

"It must wake up the second you stop playing," said Charlotte. "Well, here goes…"

She put Hagrid's flute to her lips and blew. It wasn't really a tune, but from the first note, the beast's eyes began to droop. Charlotte hardly drew breath. Slowly, the dog's growls ceased – it tottered on its paws, then fell to its knees, fast asleep.

"Keep playing," Amanda warned Charlotte as they slipped out of the cloak and crept toward the trapdoor. They could feel the dog's hot, smelly breath as they approached the giant heads.

"I think we'll be able to pull the door open," said Ron, peering over the dog's back. "Wanna go first, Hermione?"

"No, I don't!"

"All right." Ron gritted his teeth and stepped carefully over the dog's legs. He bent and pulled the ring of the trapdoor, which swung open.

"What can you see?" Amanda said anxiously.

"Nothing – just black – there's no way of climbing down, we'll just have to drop."

Charlotte, who was still playing the flute, waved to get Ron's attention and pointed at herself.

"You want to go first? Are you sure?" said Amanda. "I don't know how deep this thing goes. Give the flute to Hermione so she can keep him asleep."

Charlotte handed the flute over. In the few seconds' silence, the dog growled and twitched, but the moment that Hermione began to play, it fell back into its deep sleep.

Charlotte climbed over it and looked down through the trapdoor. There was no sign of the bottom.

She lowered herself through the hole until she was hanging by the fingertips. Then she looked up at Amanda and said, "If anything happens to me, don't follow. Go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, right?"

"Right," said Ron.

"See you in a minute, I hope…." Harry said

And Charlotte let go.

"It's okay!" she called to the light the size of the postage stamp that was the trapdoor, "it's a soft landing, you can jump!"

Amanda, and then Harry, and then Ron, followed right away. They landed, sprawled.

"What's this stuff?" were Ron's first words.

"Dunno," said Harry, "some sort of plant thing. I suppose it's here to break the fall. Come on, Hermione!"

The distant music stopped. There was a loud bark from the dog, but Hermione had already jumped. She landed on Amanda's other side.

"We must be miles under the school," she said.

"Lucky this plant thing's here, really," said Charlotte.

"_Lucky!_" shrieked Amanda. "Look at you all!"

She and Hermione leapt and struggled toward a damp wall. They had to struggle, because the moment they had landed, the plant had started to twist snakelike tendrils around their ankles. As for Harry, Charlotte, and Ron, their legs had already been bound tightly in the long creepers without their noticing.

Hermione and Amanda had managed to free themselves before the plant got a firm grip on them. Now they watched in horror as their three friends fought to pull the plant of them, but the more they strained against it, the tighter and faster the plant wound around them.

"Stop moving!" Hermione ordered. "I know what this is – it's Devil's Snare!"

"Oh, I'm so glad we know what it's called, that's a great help," snarled Ron, leaning back, trying to stop the plant from curling around his neck.

"Shut up, I'm trying to remember how to kill it!" said Hermione.

"Well, hurry up, I can't breathe!" Charlotte cried wrestling with it as it curled around her chest.

Amanda frowned, thinking.

"Devil's Snare, Devil's Snare… what did Professor Sprout say? – it likes the dark and damp–"

"So light a fire!" Harry choked.

"Yes – of course – but there's no wood!" Hermione cried, wringing her hands.

"HAVE YOU GONE MAD?" Ron bellowed. "ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?"

"Hermione, fast!" cried Charlotte, who looked a bit frazzled, though she still wasn't fighting the plant.

Hermione whipped out her wand, waved it, muttered something, and sent a jet of the same bluebell flames she had used on Snape at the plant. In a matter of seconds, the other three felt it loosening its grip as it cringed from the light and warmth. Wriggling and flailing, it unraveled itself from their bodies and they were able to pull free.

"Oh, thank god," Amanda sighed, hugging Harry.

"Lucky you two pay attention in Herbology," said Harry as he joined Hermione by the wall, wiping sweat from his face.

"Yeah," said Ron, "and lucky Charlotte doesn't lose her head in a crisis – 'there's no wood,' honestly."

"This way," said Harry, pointing down a long stone passageway, which was the only way forward.

All they could hear apart from their footsteps was the gentle drip of water down the walls. The passageway sloped downward, and Amanda was reminded of Gringotts. With an unpleasant jolt of the heart, she remembered the dragons said to be guarding the wizards' bank. If they met a dragon, a fully-grown dragon – Norbert had been bad enough….

"Can you hear something?" Charlotte whispered.

Amanda listened. A soft rustling and clinking seemed to be coming from ahead.

"Do you think it's a ghost?" she whispered

"I don't know… sounds like wings to me," Harry muttered.

"There's light ahead – I can see something moving," Ron said.

They reached the end of the passageway and saw a brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above them. It was full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy wooden door.

"Do you think they'll attack us if we cross the room?" said Ron.

"Probably," said Charlotte. "They don't look vicious, but I suppose if they all swooped down at once… well, there's no other choice….I'll run."

She took a deep breath, covered her face with her arms, and sprinted across the room. She went unscathed. She pulled the handle, but it was locked.

The other four followed her. They tugged and heaved at the door, but it wouldn't budge, not even when Hermione tried her Alohomora charm.

"Now what?" said Amanda.

"These birds… they can't just be here for decoration," said Hermione.

They watched the birds soaring overhead, glittering – _glittering_?

"They're not birds!" Harry said suddenly. "They're _keys_! Winged keys – look carefully. So that must mean…" he looked around the chamber while the other four squinted at the flock of keys. "…yes – look! Broomsticks! We've got to catch the key to the door!"

"But there are _hundreds_ of them!"

Charlotte examined the lock on the door.

"We're looking for a big, old-fashioned one – probably silver, like the handle."

"Still," Amanda sighed, defeated.

They each seized a broomstick and kicked off into the air, soaring into the cloud of keys. They grabbed and snatched, but the bewitched keys darted and dived so quickly that it was impossible to catch one.

Not for nothing, though, was Harry the youngest Seeker in a century. He had a knack for spotting things other people didn't. After a minute's weaving through the whirl of rainbow wings, he noticed a large silver key with a bent wing, as if it had already been caught and stuffed roughly into the keyhole.

"That one!" he called to the others. "That big one – there – no, there – with bright blue wings – the feathers are all crumpled on one side."

Ron went speeding across the room at the direction Harry was pointing, crashed into the ceiling, and nearly fell off his broom.

"We've got to close in on it!" Harry called, not taking his eyes off the key with the damaged wing. "Ron, you come at it from above – Amanda, you stay below and try to keep it from going down – Charlotte, you and I try to catch it between us. Right, NOW!"

Ron dived, Amanda rocketed upward, and the key dodged them both, Harry and Charlotte streaked after it; it sped toward the wall, Charlotte ducked, and Harry leaned forward and with a nasty, crunching noise, pinched it against the stone with one hand. Charlotte, Ron, Amanda, and Hermione's cheers echoed through the high chamber.

They landed quickly, and Harry ran to the door, key struggling in his hand. He rammed it into the lock and turned – it worked. The moment the lock clicked open, the key took off again, looking very battered now that it had been caught twice.

"Ready?" Harry asked the other four, his hand on the door handle. They nodded. He pulled the door open.

The next chamber was so dark they couldn't see anything at all. But as they stepped into it, light suddenly flooded the room to reveal an astonishing sight.

They were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black chessmen, which were all taller than they were and were carved from what looked like black stone. Facing them, way across the chamber, were the white pieces. Harry, Charlotte, Ron, Amanda, and Hermione shivered slightly – the towering white chessmen had no faces.

"Now what do we do?" Charlotte whispered.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" said Amanda. "We've got to play our way across the room."

Behind the white pieces, they could see another door.

"How?" said Hermione nervously.

"I think," said Ron, "we're going to have to be chessmen."

He walked up to a black knight and put his hand up to touch the knight's horse. At once, the stone sprang to life. The horse pawed the ground and the knight turned his helmeted head to look down at Ron.

"Do we – er – have to join you to get across?"

The black knight nodded. Charlotte turned to the other four.

"This needs thinking about…." she said. "I suppose we've got to take the place of four of the black pieces…."

Harry and Hermione stayed quiet, watching Charlotte, Amanda, and Ron murmur to each other softly. Finally, Amanda said, "Now, don't be offended, or anything, but neither of you is that good at chess…"

"We're not offended," said Harry quickly. "Just tell us what to do."

"Well," said Ron, "Harry, you take the place of that bishop, and Hermione, you go next to him instead of that castle."

"What about you three?"

"I'm going to be the queen," said Charlotte, "Amanda's the other castle, and Ron wants to be a knight."

The chessmen seemed to have been listening, because at those words a knight, a bishop, two castles and the queen turned their backs on the white pieces and walked off the board, leaving four empty squares that Harry, Charlotte, Ron, Amanda, and Hermione took.

"White always plays first in chess," said Amanda, peering across the board. "Yes… look…"

A white pawn had moved forward two squares.

Ron started to direct the black pieces, consulting Charlotte or Amanda on occasion. They moved silently wherever he sent them. Amanda's knees were trembling. What if they lost?

"Harry – move diagonally four squares to the right."

Their first really shock came when their other knight was taken. The white queen smashed him to the floor and dragged him off the board, where he lay quite still, face down.

"Had to let that happen," said Ron, looking shaken. "Leaves you free to take that bishop, Hermione, go on."

Every time one of their pieces was lost, the white pieces showed no mercy. Soon there was a huddle of limp, black players slumped along the wall. Twice, Charlotte or Ron noticed just in time that Harry or Hermione were in danger. The two chess masters darted around the board, taking almost as many white pieces as they had lost black ones.

"We're nearly there," Ron muttered suddenly. "Let me think – let me think…"

The white queen turned her blank face toward Ron.

"Yes…" said Charlotte softly, "it's the only way… he's got to be taken."

"NO!" Amanda, Harry, and Hermione shouted.

"That's chess!" snapped Ron. "You've got to make some sacrifices! I take one step forward and she'll take me – that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harry!"

Hermione fidgeted uncomfortably.

"But–"

"Do you want to stop Snape or not?"

"Ron–" Charlotte said softly.

"Look, if we don't hurry up, he'll already have the Stone!" Amanda said.

There was no alternative.

"Ready?" said Ron, his face pale and determined. "Don't hang around once you've won."

Ron nodded, stepped forward, and the white queen pounced. She struck Ron hard across the head with her stone arm, and he crashed to the floor – Hermione screamed but stayed on her square – the white queen dragged Ron to one side. He looked as if he'd been knocked out.

Shaking, at Charlotte's command, Harry moved three spaces to the left.

The white king took off his crown and threw it at Harry's feet. They had won. The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead clear. With one desperate last look at Ron, Harry, Charlotte, Amanda, and Hermione charged through the door and up the next passageway.

"What if he's–?"

"He'll be all right, Hermione," said Harry, trying to convince himself. What do you reckon's next?"

Charlotte counted on her fingers.

"We've had Sprout's, that was the Devil's Snare; Flitwick must've put the charms on the keys; McGonagall transfigured the chessmen to make them alive; that leave's Quirrell's spell, and Snape's…"

They had reached another door.

"All right?" Amanda whispered.

"Go on," Harry said.

Amanda pushed it open.

A disgusting smell filled their nostrils, making each of them pull their robes up over their nostrils. Eyes watering, they saw, flat on the floor in front of them, a troll even larger than the one they had tackled, out cold with a bloody lump in its head.

"I'm glad we didn't have to fight that one," Harry whispered as they stepped carefully over one of its massive legs. "Come on, I can't breathe."

He pulled open the next door, neither of them daring to look at what came next – but there was nothing very frightening in here, just a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line.

"Snape's," said Harry. "What do we have to do?"

They stepped over the threshold, and immediately a fire sprang up behind them in the doorway. It wasn't ordinary fire, either; it was purple. At the same instant, black flames shot up in the doorway leading onward. They were trapped.

"Look!" Charlotte seized a roll of paper lying next to the bottles. Harry, Amanda, and Hermione read over her shoulder:

_Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,_

_Two of us will help you, whichever you will find._

_One among us seven will let you move ahead,_

_Another will transport the drinker back instead._

_Two among our number hold only nettle wine,_

_Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line._

_Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,_

_To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:_

_First, however slyly the poison tries to hide_

_You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;_

_Second, different are those who stand at either end,_

_But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;_

_Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,_

_Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;_

_Fourth, the second on the left and the second on the right_

_Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight._

Charlotte and Hermione let out great sighs and Amanda, amazed, saw that they were smiling, the very last thing she felt like doing.

"_Brilliant_," said Hermione. "This isn't magic – it's logic – a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, they'd be stuck in here forever."

"But, so will we, won't we?" Harry said.

"Of course not," said Hermione. "Everything we need is here on this paper. Seven bottles: three are poison; two are wine; one will get us safely through the black fire, and one will get us back through the purple."

Charlotte frowned at the bottles, thinking. "But which ones do we drink?"

"Give her a minute," Amanda muttered.

Hermione read the paper several times. Then she walked up and down the line of bottles, muttering to herself and point at them. At last, she clapped her hands.

"Got it, the smallest bottle will get us through the black fire – toward the Stone."

Harry looked at the tiny bottle.

"There's barely enough for three of us," he said. "That's hardly three swallows."

They looked at each other. He frowned at the paper.

"Which one will get you back through the purple flames?"

Hermione pointed at a rounded bottle at the right end of the line.

"You drink that," said Charlotte. "No, listen, get back and get Ron. Grab brooms from the flying-key room, they'll get you out of the trapdoor and past Fluffy – go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, we need him. We might be able to hold off Snape for a while, but we're no match for him, really."

"What if You-Know-Who's with him?" Amanda said softly.

"Well – I was lucky once, wasn't I?" said Harry, pointing at his scar. "I might get lucky again."

Hermione's lip trembled and she suddenly dashed at Harry, Amanda, and Charlotte and threw her arms around the three of them.

Amanda frowned deeper.

"_Hermione!_" Harry groaned.

"Harry, Charlotte, Amanda – you're great a great wizard, and you're great witches, you know."

"I'm not as good as you," said Charlotte, embarrassed as she let go of them.

"Agreed," Amanda said nervously.

"Me!" said Hermione. "Books! And cleverness! There are more important things – friendship and bravery and – Oh, Harry, Charlotte, Amanda – be _careful_!"

"You drink first," said Harry. "You are sure which is which, aren't you?"

"Positive," said Hermione. She took a long drink from the round bottle at the end and shuddered.

"It's not poison?" said Charlotte anxiously.

"Can't be," Amanda squeaked.

"No – but it's like ice," Hermione said.

"Go, quick before it wears off," said Harry.

"Good luck – take care–"

"GO!" Charlotte demanded.

Hermione turned and walked straight through the purple fire.

Amanda took a deep breath and picked up the smallest bottle. She turned to face the black flames.

"Here we come," she said as she drank, careful to leave some for Charlotte and Harry, who drained the bottle between them.

It was indeed as though ice was flooding her body. Charlotte put the bottle down and they walked forward; Amanda braced herself – saw the black flames licking her body, but couldn't feel them – for a moment she could see nothing but dark fire – then she, Harry, and Charlotte were on the other side, in the last chamber.

There was already someone there – but it wasn't Snape. It wasn't even Voldemort.


	22. Face to Face

It was Quirrell.

"_You!_" gasped Harry.

Quirrell smiled. His face wasn't twitching at all.

"Me," he said calmly. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potters, Cromwell."

"But I thought – Snape–"

"Severus?" Quirrell laughed, and it wasn't his usual quivering treble, either, but cold and sharp. "Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn't he? So useful to have him swooping around like an over-grown bat. Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?

Charlotte couldn't take it in. This couldn't be true, it couldn't.

"But Snape tried to kill me!" Harry said.

"No, no, no. _I_ tried to kill you. Your friend Miss Granger accidentally knocked me over as she rushed to set fire to Snape at that Quidditch match. She broke my eye contact with you. Another few seconds and I'd have got you off that broom. I'd have managed it before then if Snape hadn't been muttering a countercurse, trying to save you.

"Snape was trying to _save_ him?" Charlotte said, stunned.

"Of course," said Quirrell coolly. "Why do you think he wanted to referee your next match? He was trying to make sure I didn't do it again. Funny, really… he needn't have bothered. I couldn't do anything with Dumbledore watching. All the other teachers thought Snape was trying to stop Gryffindor winning, he _did_ make himself unpopular… and what a waste of time, when after all that, I'm going to kill all of you tonight."

Quirrell snapped his fingers. Ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around Charlotte, Amanda, and Harry.

"You're too nosy to live. Scurrying around the school on Halloween like that, for all I knew you'd seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone."

Charlotte gasped at the tightness of the ropes, glaring at him.

"_You_ let the troll in?" Amanda said.

"Certainly. I have a special gift with trolls – you must have seen what I did to the one in the chamber back there? Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off – and not only did my troll fail to beat you to death, that three-headed dog didn't manage to bite Snape's leg off properly.

"Now, wait quietly. I need to examine this interesting mirror."

It was only then when Charlotte realized what was standing behind Quirrell. It was the Mirror of Erised.

"This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," Quirrell murmured, tapping his way around the frame. "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this… but he's in London… I'll be far away by the time he gets back…"

All Charlotte could think of doing was to keep Quirrell talking and stop him from concentrating on the mirror.

"I saw you and Snape in the forest–" Harry blurted out.

"Yes," said Quirrell idly, walking around the mirror to look at the back. "He was on to me by that time, trying to find out how far I'd got. He suspected me all along. Tried to frighten me – as though he could, when I had Lord Voldemort on my side…."

Quirrell came back from behind the mirror and stared hungrily into it.

"I see the Stone… I'm presenting it to my master… but where is it?"

Charlotte struggled against the ropes binding her, but they didn't give. They _had_ to keep Quirrell from giving his whole attention to the mirror. Harry kept talking.

"But Snape always seemed to hate us so much."

"Oh, but he does," said Quirrell casually, "heavens, yes. He was at Hogwarts with your parents, didn't you know? They loathed each other. But he never wanted you _dead_."

"But I heard you a few days ago, sobbing – I thought Snape was threatening you…."

For the first time, a spasm of fear flitted across Quirrell's face.

"Sometimes," he said, "I find it hard to follow my master's instructions – he is a great wizard and I am weak–"

"Do you mean he was there in the classroom with you?" Charlotte gasped.

"He is with me wherever I go," said Quirrell quietly. "I met him when I traveled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it…. Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me." Quirrell shivered suddenly. "He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the Stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me… decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me…."

Quirrell's voice trailed away. Charlotte was remembering their trip to Diagon Alley – how could she have been so stupid? She'd _seen_ Quirrell there that very day, shaken hands with him in the Leaky Cauldron.

Quirrell cursed under his breath.

"I don't understand… is the Stone _inside_ the mirror? Should I break it?"

Charlotte nearly gasped out loud when she heard Amanda's voice inside her head, just as she had been wondering what she had been thinking.

"_What I want more than anything else in the world right now,_" Amanda thought, "_is to find the Stone before Quirrell does. So if I look in the mirror, I should see myself finding it – which means I'll see where it's hidden! But how can I look without Quirrell realizing what I'm up to?_"

Realizing Amanda was right, Charlotte tried to edge to the left, to get in front of the glass without Quirrell noticing, but the ropes around her ankles were too tight: she tripped and fell over. Quirrell ignored her. He was still talking to himself.

"What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"

And to Charlotte's horror, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come from Quirrell himself.

"Use the boy…Use the boy…"

Quirrell rounded on Harry.

"Yes – Potter – come here."

He clapped his hands once, and the ropes binding Harry, Amanda, and Charlotte fell off.

"Cromwell and Potter, you too."

They walked toward him, Harry's voice now in her head.

"_I must lie,_" he thought desperately. "_I must look and lie about what I see, that's all._"

Quirrell moved close behind them. Charlotte breathed in the funny smell that seemed to come from Quirrell's turban. She closed her eyes as Harry stepped in front of his mirror, strangely seeing through his eyes with her own shut.

She saw his reflection, pale and scared-looking at first. But a moment later, the reflection smiled at them. It put its hand into its pocket and pulled out a blood-red stone. It winked and put the Stone back in its pocket – Harry's senses told her that something heavy had dropped into his real pocket. Somehow – incredibly – _he had gotten the Stone_.

"Well?" said Quirrell impatiently. "What do you see?"

Charlotte held her breath.

"I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore," Harry invented. "I – I've won the House cup for Gryffindor."

Quirrell cursed again.

"Get out of the way," he said. As Charlotte moved aside, she caught Harry's eye frantically, thinking hard that she knew he had the Stone. His eyes widened, obviously hearing her thoughts. Dare they make a break for it?

But they hadn't walked five paces when a high voice spoke, though Quirrell's lips didn't move.

"He lies… He lies…"

"Come back here!" Quirrell shouted. "Tell me the truth! What did you just see?"

The high voice spoke again.

"Let me speak to them… face-to-face…."

"Master, you are not strong enough!"

"I have strength enough… for this…."

Charlotte felt as though Devil's Snare was rooting her to the spot. She couldn't move a muscle. Petrified, she watched as Quirrell reached up and began to unwrap his turban. What was going on? The turban fell away. Quirrell's head looked strangely small without it. Then he turned slowly on the spot.

Charlotte would have screamed, but she couldn't make a sound. Where there should have been the back to Quirrell's head, there was a face, the most terrible face Charlotte had ever seen. It was chalk-white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.

"Charlotte Cromwell… Harry and Amanda Potter…" he whispered.

Charlotte tried to take a step backward, but her legs wouldn't move.

"See what I have become?" the face said. "Mere shadow and vapor… I have form only when I can share another's body… but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds…. Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past few weeks… you saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest… and once I have the Elixir of Life I will be able to create a body of my own….Now… Harry… why don't you give me that stone in your pocket?"

So he knew. Harry stumbled backward.

"Don't be a fool," snarled the face. "Better save your own life and join me… or you'll meet the same end as your parents…. They died begging me for mercy…."

"LIAR!" Harry shouted suddenly.

Quirrell was walking backward at them, so that Voldemort could still see them. The evil face was now smiling.

"How touching…" it hissed. "I always valued bravery… Yes, boy, your parents were brave… I killed your father first, and he put up a courageous fight… but your mother needn't have died… she was trying to protect you…. Now give me the Stone, unless you want her to have died in vain."

Charlotte yelled, "NEVER!"

Charlotte, Amanda, and Harry sprang toward the flame door, but Voldemort screamed, "SEIZE THEM!" and the next second, Charlotte felt Quirrell's close around her wrist. Harry was yelling as they struggled with all their might, and to her surprise, Quirrell let go of Harry before tossing Charlotte and Amanda aside roughly. When the pain of her fall had subsided a little, she looked around wildly to see where Quirrell had gone, and saw him hunched in pain, looking at his fingers – they were blistering before his eyes.

"Seize them! SEIZE THEM!" shrieked Voldemort again, and Quirrell lunged, knocking Harry clean off his feet, landing on top of him, both hands around Harry's neck – Charlotte could see both of them howling in pain.

"Master, I cannot hold him – my hands – my hands!"

And Quirrell, though pinning Harry to the ground with his knees, let go of his neck and stared, bewildered, at his own palms – Charlotte could see that they looked burned, raw, red and shiny.

"Then kill the girls first, fool!" screeched Voldemort.

Before Quirrell could turn to Charlotte or Amanda, Harry instinctively reached up and grabbed Quirrell's face –

"AAAARGH!"

Quirrell rolled off him, his face blistering too, and then Charlotte knew: Quirrell couldn't touch Harry's bare skin, not without suffering intense pain – their only chance was to keep hold of Quirrell, to keep him in enough pain to stop him from doing a curse.

Harry jumped to his feet, caught Quirrell's arm and held on as tight as he could. Quirrell screamed and tried to throw Harry off – Charlotte's own head was beginning to spin as she stood – she couldn't see – she could only hear Quirrell's terrible shrieks and Voldemort's yells of "KILL THEM! KILL THEM!" and other voices, maybe in Charlotte's own head, crying "Charlotte! Harry! Amanda!"

She stumbled forward, trying to find Harry, sure it was all lost, and fell into blackness, down… down… down…

/-/

Something gold was glinting just above Amanda. The Snitch! She tried to catch it, but her arms were too heavy.

She blinked. It wasn't the Snitch at all. It was a pair of glasses. How strange.

She blinked again. The smiling face of Albus Dumbledore swam into view above her.

"Good afternoon, Amanda," said Dumbledore.

Amanda stared at him. Then she heard Charlotte's voice: "Sir! The Stone! It was Quirrell! He's got the Stone! Sir, quick–"

"Calm yourself, dear girl, you are a little behind the times," said Dumbledore. "Quirrell does not have the Stone."

"Then who does?" Amanda asked. "Sir, I–"

"Amanda, please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out."

Amanda swallowed and looked around her. She realized he must be in the hospital wing. She was lying in a bed with white linen sheets, the next bed over holding a giggling Charlotte, Harry on the other side of her, and between them were two tables piled high with what looked like half the candy shop.

"Tokens from your friends and admirers," said Dumbledore, beaming. "What happened down in the dungeons between you two and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows. I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley are responsible for trying to send Charlotte a toilet seat. No doubt, they thought it would amuse you. Madam Pomfrey, however, thought it might not be hygienic, and confiscated it."

Charlotte giggled even harder as Harry took a deep breath and said, "How long have we been in here?"

"Three days. Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger will be most relieved you've come around, they have been extremely worried."

Harry frowned.

"But sir, the Stone–"

"I see you are not to be distracted. Very well, the Stone. Professor Quirrell did not manage to take it from you. I arrived in time to prevent that, although you were doing very well on your own, I must say."

"You got there? You got Hermione's owl?"

"We must have crossed in midair. No sooner had I arrived in London than it had occurred to me that the place I should be was the one I had just left. I arrived just in time to pull Quirrell off you–"

"It was _you_," Charlotte gasped.

"I feared I might be too late."

Amanda nodded.

"You nearly were, we couldn't have kept him off the Stone much longer–"

"Not the Stone, dear, you three – the effort nearly involved killing you. For one terrible moment there, I was afraid it had. As for the Stone, it has been destroyed."

"Destroyed?" said Harry blankly. "But your friend – Nicolas Flamel–"

"Oh, you know about Nicolas?" said Dumbledore, sounding quite delighted. "You _did_ do the thing properly, didn't you? Well, Nicolas and I have had a little chat, and agreed that it's all for the best."

"But that means he and his wife will die, won't they?"

"They have enough Elixir stored to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die."

Dumbledore smiled at the look of amazement on Amanda's face.

"To one as young as you, I'm sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas and Perenelle, it's really like going to bed after a very, _very_ long day. After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could want! The two things most human beings would chose above all – the trouble is, humans have a knack for choosing precisely the things that are worst for them."

Amanda lay there, lost for words. Dumbledore hummed a little and smiled at the ceiling.

"Sir?" said Harry. "I've been thinking… Sir – even if the Stone's gone Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who–"

"Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."

Charlotte nodded, picking up on Harry's train of thought.

"Yes, sir. Well, Voldemort's going to try other ways of coming back, isn't he? I mean, he hasn't gone, has he?"

"No, Charlotte, he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share. Not being truly alive, he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as to his enemies. Nevertheless, Charlotte, while you may have only delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone who is willing to fight what seems like a losing battle next time – and if he is delayed again and again, well, he may never return to power."

Amanda nodded, but stopped quickly, because he made his head hurt. Then he said, "Sir, there are some other things I would like to know, if you can tell me… things I want to know the truth about…."

"The truth." Dumbledore sighed. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason to do otherwise, in which case I beg you to forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie."

"Well… Voldemort said that he only killed our mother because she tried to stop him from killing me," Harry said softly. "But why would he want to kill me in the first place?"

Dumbledore sighed very deeply this time.

"Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You will know one day… put your mind from it for now, Harry. When you are older… I know you hate to hear this… when you are ready, you will know."

And Amanda knew it would be no good to argue.

"But why couldn't Quirrell touch me?"

"Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realize that love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign… to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed, and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this very reason. It was agony to touch a person marked with something so good."

Dumbledore now became very interested with a bird on the windowsill, which gave Harry time to dry his eyes on the sheet. Charlotte said, "When we were in the chamber, there was a time when I could hear Amanda and Harry's thoughts, and see them, and even a point when I forced them into his mind. I don't know how I did any of it; I just knew it would work. How did I do that?"

Dumbledore looked at Charlotte with a sad sort of smile.

"You're so much like your mother. You are very gifted in many ways she was, and this is one of those things. Your mother had proper training in Divination and would have made an incredibly talented Seer if she had lived long enough, but it's a gift she has passed to you. I believe you would also make a talented Seer with the proper training. I'm not sure you'll receive it, but the raw gifts will always be useful, and you've been resourceful enough to figure them out to some extent already. There is more you will need to know about your mother, things that have to do with these abilities, but alas, as with Harry, these are things I would need to tell you when you are older, and I hope you will forgive me."

Harry said, "The invisibility cloak – do you know who sent it to me?"

"Ah – your father happened to leave that in my possession, and I thought you might like it." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Useful things…. Your father and Charlotte's mother used it mainly for sneaking off to the kitchens with their friends to steal food while they were here. They were very close friends."

"And there's something else…" Amanda muttered.

"Fire away."

"Quirrell said Snape–"

"_Professor_ Snape, Harry."

Amanda nodded absently.

"Yes, him – Quirrell says he hates us because he hated our parents. Is that true?"

"Well, they did rather detest each other. Not unlike yourselves and Mr. Malfoy. And then, your father, Harry and Amanda, and your mother, Charlotte, did something Snape could never forgive."

"What?" Harry asked.

"They saved his life."

"_What?_" Charlotte cried.

"Yes…" said Dumbledore dreamily. "Funny, the way people's minds work, isn't it? Professor Snape couldn't bear being in their debt…. I do believe he worked so hard to protect you this year because he felt it would make him even. Then they could go back to hating their memories in peace…."

Amanda tried to understand this but it made her head pound, so she stopped.

"And, sir, there's just one more thing…"

"Just the one?"

Amanda nodded. Harry then voiced the very question she had been wondering.

"How did I get the Stone out of the mirror?"

"Ah, now I'm glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that's saying something. You see, only one who wanted to _find _the Stone – find it, but not use it – would be able to get it, otherwise they would just seem themselves making gold or drinking the Elixir of Life. My brain surprises even me sometimes…. Now, enough questions. I suggest you start on these sweets. Ah! Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit flavored one, and since then, I've rather lost my liking for them – but I think I could be safe with a nice toffee, don't you?"

He smiled and popped the golden-brown bean into his mouth. Then he choked and said, "Alas! Ear wax!"

/-/

Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was a nice woman, but very strict.

"Just five minutes," Charlotte pleaded.

"Absolutely not."

"You let Professor Dumbledore in…." Amanda whined.

"Well, of course, that was the headmaster, quite different. You both need _rest_."

"We are resting, look, lying down and everything. Oh, go on, Madam Pomfrey…" Harry wheedled.

"Oh, very well," she said. "But five minutes _only_."

And she let Ron and Hermione in.

"_Hermione!_"

Hermione looked ready to fling her arms around Charlotte again, but Charlotte was glad she held herself back on Harry's warning as her head was still very sore.

"Oh, Harry, we were sure you were going to – Dumbledore was so worried–"

"The whole school's talking about it," said Ron. "What _really_ happened?"

It was one of those rare occasions where the true story is even more strange and exciting than the wild rumors. Charlotte told them everything: Quirrell; the mirror; the Stone; and Voldemort. Ron and Hermione were a very good audience; they gasped in all the right places, and when Charlotte told them what was under Quirrell's turban, Hermione screamed out loud.

"And that's that," Charlotte sighed.

"More or less," Amanda said with a smirk, laying back on her pillows.

"So the Stone's gone?" said Ron finally. "Flamel's just going to _die_?"

"That's what I said," Harry interjected, "but Dumbledore thinks that – what was it? – 'to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.'"

"I always said he was off his rocker," said Ron, looking quite impressed at how crazy their hero was.

"So what happened to you two?" said Charlotte.

"Oh, yes, please tell us!" Amanda pleaded.

"Well, I got back all right," said Hermione. "I brought Ron round – that took a while – and we were dashing up the owlery to contact Dumbledore when we met him in the entrance hall – he already knew – he just said 'Harry and Charlotte have gone after him, haven't they?' and hurtled off to the third floor."

"D'you think he meant us to do it?" said Harry. "Sending us our father's cloak and everything?"

"_Well_," Hermione exploded, "if he did – I mean to say – that's terrible – you could have both been killed."

"No, it isn't," said Harry thoughtfully. "He's a funny man, Dumbledore. I think he sort of wanted to give us a chance. I think he knows more or less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea that we were going to try, and instead of trying to stop us, he just taught us enough to help. I don't think it's an accident he let us find out how the mirror worked. It's almost like he thought, we had the right to face Voldemort, if we could…."

"Yeah, Dumbledore's off his rocker, all right," said Charlotte proudly.

"Probably," Amanda agreed.

Ron got excited.

"Listen, you've got to be up for the end-of-year feast tomorrow. The points are all in, and Slytherin won, of course – you missed the last Quidditch match, we were steamrolled by Ravenclaw without you – but the food'll be good."

At that moment, Madam Pomfrey bustled over.

"You've had nearly fifteen minutes, now OUT," she said firmly.


	23. End of the Year

After a good night's sleep, Amanda felt nearly back to normal.

"We want to go to the feast," Charlotte told Madam Pomfrey as she straightened their many candy boxes. "We can, can't we?"

"Professor Dumbledore says you are to be allowed to go," she said sniffily, as though in her opinion, Professor Dumbledore didn't realize how risky feasts could be. "And you have another visitor."

"Oh, good," said Amanda. "Who is it?"

Hagrid sidled through the door as he spoke. As usual when he was indoors, Hagrid looked too big to be allowed. He sat down between Amanda and Charlotte, took one look at the three of them, and burst into tears.

"It's – all – my –ruddy – fault!" he sobbed, his face in his hands. "It told the evil git how ter get past Fluffy! I told him! It was the only think he didn't know an' I told him! Yeh could've died! All fer a dragon egg! I'll never drink again! I should be chucked out an' made ter live as a Muggle!"

"Hagrid!" said Harry, shocked to see Hagrid shaking with grief and remorse, great tears leaking down into his beard. "Hagrid, he'd have found out somehow, this is Voldemort we're talking about, he'd have found out even if you hadn't told him."

"Yeh could've died!" sobbed Hagrid. "An' don' say the name!"

"VOLDEMORT!" Harry bellowed, and Hagrid was so shocked, he stopped crying. "I've met him and I'm calling him by his name. Please cheer up, Hagrid, we've saved the Stone, it's gone, he can't use it. Have a Chocolate Frog, we've got loads…."

Hagrid wiped his nose on the back of his hand and said, "That reminds me. I got yeh presents."

"They're not stoat sandwiches, are they?" said Harry anxiously, and at last Hagrid gave a weak chuckle.

"Nah. Dumbledore gave me the day off yesterday ter fix 'em. 'Course, he shoulda sacked me instead – anyway, got yeh these…"

They seemed to be two handsome, leather-covered books. Amanda opened hers and Harry's curiously. It was full of wizard photographs. Smiling and waving at him from every page were their mother and father. She looked over at Charlotte's which held photographs of a pretty young woman who looked like an older version of Charlotte. The photographs were all of Charlotte's mother and her friends.

"Sent owls off ter all yer parents' old school friends, askin' fer photos… knew yeh didn' have any, Harry an' 'Manda, an' thought yeh might like so' more, Charlotte… d'yeh like 'em?"

Harry, Amanda, and Charlotte couldn't speak, but Hagrid understood.

/-/

Charlotte, Amanda, and Harry made their way down to the end-of-year feast together that night. They had been held up by Madam Pomfrey fussing about, insisting on giving them one last checkup, so the Great Hall was already full. It was decked out in the Slytherin colors of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin's winning the house cup for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table.

When Charlotte, Amanda, and Harry walked in there was a sudden hush, and then everybody started talking at once. They slipped into seats across from Ron and Hermione and the Gryffindor table, and tried to ignore the fact that people were standing up to look at them.

Fortunately, Dumbledore arrived moments later. The babble died away.

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully our heads are a little fuller than they were… you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before the next year starts….

"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with one hundred and ninty-two; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two."

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. Charlotte could see Draco Malfoy banging his goblet on the table. It was a sickening sight.

"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However, recent events must be taken into account."

The room went very still. The Slytherins' smiles faded a little.

"Ahem," said Dumbledore. "I have a few last minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes…

"First – to Mr. Ronald Weasley…"

Ron went purple in the face; he looked like a radish with a bad sunburn.

"…for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. Percy could be heard telling the other prefects, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"

At last there was silence again.

"Second – to Miss Hermione Granger… for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Hermione buried her face in her arms; Charlotte strongly suspected she had burst into tears. Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves – they were up a hundred points.

"Third – to Mr. Harry Potter, Miss Amanda Potter, and Miss Charlotte Cromwell…" said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet. "…for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points for each of them."

The din was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse knew that Gryffindor now had four hundred and seventy-two points – exactly the same as Slytherin. They had tied for the house cup. If only Dumbledore had given Harry, Amanda, and Charlotte just one more point.

Dumbledore raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent.

"There are all kinds of courage," said Dumbledore, smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

Someone standing outside the Great Hall might well have thought an explosion had taken place, so loud was the noise that erupted from the Gryffindor table. Charlotte, Harry, Ron, Amanda, and Hermione stood to yell and cheer as Neville, white with shock, disappeared under a pile of people hugging him. Charlotte, still cheering, got Harry and Ron's attention and pointed to Malfoy, who couldn't have looked more stunned and horrified if he had just got the full Body-Bind Curse put on him.

"Which means," called Dumbledore over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin, "we need a little change in decoration."

He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place. Snape was shaking Professor McGonagall's hand with a horrible, forced smile. He caught Charlotte's eye, and Charlotte knew at once that Snape's feelings toward her hadn't changed one jot. This didn't worry Charlotte. It seemed as though life would be back to normal next year, or as normal as it ever was at Hogwarts.

It was the best evening of Charlotte's life, better than winning at Quidditch, or Christmas, or knocking out mountain trolls… she would never, ever forget tonight.

/-/

Amanda had almost forgotten that the exam results were still to come, but come they did. To their great surprise, she, Harry, and Ron passed with good marks; Hermione, of course, and surprisingly, Charlotte, had the best grades of the first years. Even Neville scrapped through, his good Herbology mark making up for his abysmal Potions one. They had hoped that Goyle, who was almost as stupid as he was mean, would be thrown out, but he had passed, too. It was a shame, but as Ron said, you couldn't have everything in life.

And suddenly, their wardrobes were empty, their trunks were packed, and Neville's toad was found lurking in the corner of the toilets; notes were handed out to all students, warning them not to use magic over the holidays ("I always hope they'll forget to give us these," said Fred Weasley sadly); Hagrid was there to take them down to the fleet of boats that sailed across the lake; they were boarding the Hogwarts Express; talking and laughing as the countryside became greener and tidier; eating Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans as they sped past Muggle towns; pulling off their wizard robes and putting on jackets and coats; pulling into platform nine and three-quarters at King's Cross station.

It took quite a while for them all to get off the platform. A wizened old guard was standing by the ticket barrier, letting go through the gate in twos and threes so they didn't attract attention by all bursting out of a solid wall at once and alarming Muggles.

"You must come and stay this summer," said Ron to Harry, Amanda, and Hermione, as Charlotte was going home with him, "all of you – I'll send you an owl."

"Yes, please do!" Charlotte said excitedly.

"Thanks," said Amanda, "we'll need something to look forward to."

People jostled them as they moved forward toward the gateway back to the Muggle world. Some of them called:

"Bye, Harry!"

"See you, Cromwell!"

"Still famous," said Ron, grinning at them.

"Not where we're going, I promise you," said Harry.

Harry, Charlotte, Ron, Amanda, and Hermione got permission to pass through the gateway together.

"There he is, Mom, look, there his is, look!"

It was Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister, but she wasn't pointing at Ron.

"Harry Potter!" she squealed. "Look, Mum! I can see–"

"Be quiet, Ginny, and it's rude to point."

Mrs. Weasley smiled down at them.

"Busy year?" she said.

"Very," said Harry. "Thanks for the fudge and the sweaters, Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh, it was nothing, dear."

It was Uncle Vernon, still purple-faced, still mustached, still looking furious at the nerve of Harry, carrying an owl in a cage in a station full of ordinary people. Behind him stood Aunt Petunia and Dudley, looking terrified at the very sight of Harry.

"You must be Harry's family!" said Mrs. Weasley.

"In a manner of speaking," said Uncle Vernon. "Hurry up, boy, we haven't got all day." He walked away.

Harry and Amanda hung back for a last word with Charlotte, Ron and Hermione.

"See you over the summer, then," Charlotte said happily.

"Take care," Amanda replied, hugging her friend.

"Hope you have – er – a good holiday," said Hermione, looking after Uncle Vernon, shocked that anyone could be so unpleasant.

"Oh, we will," said Harry, and Ron and Hermione were surprised by the grin that Harry, Amanda, and Charlotte shared. "_They_ don't know we're not allowed to use magic at home. I suspect we're going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer…."

/-/

Claire's eyes fluttered open and she looked up at Audrey, who was frowning down at her.

"You were screaming again," Audrey whispered. "In your sleep. You were screaming out for Remus. I can call him if you-"

"No," Claire snapped.

Remus would not be called. Her inadequacies would not be aired before him as they had been before. He had turned away from her and she wouldn't beg him for his returning into her life. If anything, he ought to be begging her for forgiveness.

But she knew him, and he never would. Not out of pride, no, but out of self-loathing. He would convince himself that she was better off without him in her life.

No, Claire was the proud one of the pair of them. She would not apologize for something she hadn't done wrong.

"If you're sure," Audrey said, her voice tainted with skepticism, but she said she would run a bath for Claire, who sobbed as soon as her only friend left in the world left the room, horrified that it had gotten to this point.

/-/

Remus glanced at the photo album he had rifled through for Hagrid, feeling his chest ache with the pain of the memories. Mary, Olivia, Lily, James, Peter... They were all dead now. Sirius had betrayed every one of them, and then there was Audrey and Claire...

He'd wanted to write to her every day since they'd parted ways in that mental hospital. He'd started about a hundred different letters, but he'd never had the strength to finish. Sometimes he would sit alone with a strong drink and just think about the way her gray eyes would sparkle when she laughed.

It had been wrong to stay away when she needed him, but he had been so afraid, so afraid that she would look him in the eye and blame him for losing Sirius with so much hatred that whether she was sane or not, he would never, ever be able to forget Claire hating him and the shame of failing her.

But he'd failed her anyway. She told him as much, and even a year later he was still sick to his stomach when he thought of the way she looked when she said goodbye, the way she cut him out of her life.

If he closed his eyes a little tighter he could feel her skin on his, almost trace the memory of every scar on her body, the places where her parents had marred her beautiful ivory skin. He could almost remember the weight of her as she would sleep on top of him, the way it felt to run his fingers through her soft black hair, the warmth of her sweet breath on his skin. The daydreams were both sustaining and maddening, because he knew he would never hold her again and in a way they only made him need her more.

Albus had told him not to worry, that Claire could be stubborn but that she would eventually realize that she missed him and want to have him back in her life. After all, there were only the three of them left. Either that, or Audrey would insist that they befriend him again because of her own isolation. Remus wasn't so sure, especially given that those two had never needed anyone but each other and Sirius, and Remus could never replace Sirius, especially after all that had happened.

No, he was fairly certain he'd lost her forever this time.

He took another long swig of his drink and put away the pictures, too pained to look at her anymore. Claire Black was no longer a part of his life, and with her he'd lost his valued friendship with Audrey, and everything and everyone who had ever been important to him. He finished off his drink, threw the glass in the growing pile of dishes in the sink, and curled up in bed, trying to forget, even after all that time, that horrible time alone, as Remus turned the light off he couldn't believe that he still could barely stand to sleep alone.

/-/

Sirius could almost picture the face of his baby girl if he tried long and hard enough. He wasn't sure how old she was now, but surely no longer a baby. He could almost count the years based on how many times certain important people made required visits. He thought, though he couldn't be sure, that she would be old enough to be at Hogwarts. He wondered if she would be as beautiful, talented, and mischievous as her mother. She would almost have to be.

He gripped the stone of the window on his cell tightly, looking out at the never-ending sea.

If nothing too terrible had happened once he was taken away, Claire and Remus would have raised his darling girl, hopefully with the knowledge that despite everything that had been said about him, he was innocent and he loved her.

Because the only thing happy he was sure of anymore was that he loved Charlotte. The only reason that fact hadn't been torn from him was because it caused him endless torment to think of how much he had missed, how his darling girl was growing up without him. He'd already missed so much, her birth and the nappies, the sleepless nights and the first accidental magic. He'd missed her first trip to Diagon Alley for school shopping, her first ride on the Hogwarts Express. It wouldn't be too long before he could add bras and boys and too-short skirts to the list if she was too much like her mother. Maybe he'd already missed it.

But Sirius knew he would miss it all. Her first heartbreak, her first love, her wedding day, a grandchild...

Tears sprang to his hollow gray eyes as he looked out at the sea, the wind ruffling his dark hair.

His sweet baby was no longer a baby. He had only the vaguest memories of their few afternoons together, her cute little tuft of black hair as she curled her tiny little fingers into his own hair. She spat up on her aunt Anne-Claire several times in his presence alone. She'd crawled up to him every time he came to visit, and looked up at him with those big, shining green eyes. He'd even missed her first steps, having been on a mission.

He hadn't had a chance to see her walk before everything went to hell.

And now he would live in hell forever. He could almost taste the despair he tried so hard not to give way to. He would not become a shell like some of the other people at Azkaban.

Claire had been right, of course. Sirius should have let Albus be the Secret-Keeper and just stayed out of it, raised his daughter and lived out the war in hiding so that he could have the time with Charlotte at the very least.

But it was too late. It was now just the greatest of his long list of regrets.


End file.
